


Open Your Eyes

by dusuessekartoffel



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Canon Trans Character, David is a vampire, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, and they were ROOMMATES, matteo is an oblivious mess, the carry on au nobody asked for, there's a lot of pining, whine and pine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 62,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dusuessekartoffel/pseuds/dusuessekartoffel
Summary: All Matteo Florenzi wants is to get through his last year at Watford. Get done with school, defeat the Insidious Humdrum and retire from being the Chosen One forever. And best of all: never have to see David Schreibner, his evil vampire roommate and nemesis, again.Except life doesn’t always do what you want it to. So maybe he’s not ready to defeat the Humdrum. And maybe he’s not okay with leaving the World of Mages behind forever. And maybe he doesn’t really want to get rid of David, after all.Or; the Carry On AU nobody asked for, which means enemies to lovers, some pining and a whole lot of magic.
Relationships: Jonas Augustin/Hanna Jung, Laura Schreibner/Linn Shira, Matteo Florenzi/David (Druck), side:
Comments: 114
Kudos: 149





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! This is my first actual multi-chaptered Druck fic. It's a Carry On AU but you absolutely don't need to have read the book to understand this. (Though it's a good book, I can highly recommend!) So the world doesn't belong to me and the characters obviously don't either. Really, only the plot is mine and that isn't even existent in the first chapter. Oh well.  
> They're British in this one and I'm very much not, so if I get anything completely wrong, don't hesitate to correct me.  
> Also, quick disclaimer: I'm not trans so if I write anything that's insensitive or bothers you, please tell me. 
> 
> I will try to update this fic every Thursday (which, let's be real here, is just a synonym for 1 am on Friday). I can't make any promises though, uni is definitely going to become more stressful as the semester progresses. 
> 
> Very big shoutout to Paula (catofthebarricades) for reading through this and just generally always cheering me on for whatever stupid writing project I come up with. <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Prologue**

Dear Matteo,

I am so sorry for leaving you alone. I know you’ll be angry at me for leaving you behind and leaving without saying goodbye. I wish I could explain. But I can’t. Just know that I would never have left you if there was any other way.

Remember, if everything gets too much, you take deep breaths and you focus on the small things, like your shoelaces. I’m so proud of you and I know you’ll continue to make me proud.

I love you very much, my little butterfly.

I hope I’ll see you again one day.

Mama


	2. Chapter One: Can You Read My Mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter One: Going back to school, best friends, annoying girlfriends, too good-looking roommates and a lot of pining. 
> 
> Also known as: the chapter with no plot. I promise it will get better in the next one. 
> 
> The title of this chapter is a lyric from the song Read My Mind by The Killers. You can listen to it in my Matteo playlist if you're curious. There's also one for David but they're for the entire work and I'll probably edit them a bit so they might include some slight spoilers for this fic.  
> [Matteo](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5UEwI5avBTHDKizbcHYoPR?si=NT68LIM0T1y9zUWwtdSZdg)  
> [David](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ROL6DsZzIVApQhBv3bfa8?si=J8UNUZT_TGmUPU-l6gPyYw)

**Chapter One: Can You Read My Mind?**

**Matteo**

“If your thoughts are bothering you, take a deep breath. Drive them away.”

That’s what the ad above my head says. I’ve been staring at it for the past half hour, the _bloody amazing_ car it’s advertising, the ugly yellow colour of the font, the way one of the edges is starting to peel off. It’s not even a good car. It’s hideous and terrible and I’m sure it’s not as fast as the ad makes me want to believe. It’s orange, for fuck’s sake. Who wants to drive an orange car?

And it’s not like the other ads on this train are much better. The National Rail really needs to work on what they show their customers. The car ad is in between an awful dating app one (“Less swiping and more talking!”) and an ad for Cadbury’s newest flavour of chocolate. But it’s the car one that I keep going back to.

It’s just a stupid ad. It doesn’t even make sense. Why take a breath? Why drive your thoughts away by driving a car? It’s easily one of the worst ads ever created. And it has nothing to do with me. Nothing at all.

Still, I’m grateful when the train finally arrives at Watford and I can get away from the ad. Right before I get out, I poke my tongue out at it, just a little, to make sure I have the upper hand. To make me feel like I won. (I’m pretty sure an older lady is judging me heavily by the look she’s giving me but I can’t be bothered to care. I can barely keep myself from rolling my eyes at her.) Stupid ad.

There’s another train after that and then a bus that takes me out into the country as far as public transport will. And it’s walking from there. It takes me at least forty minutes to get from the last bus stop to the gates of Watford School of Magicks. It’s more exercise than I’ve had all summer and more than I’ll get all year, if I can avoid it. I take my time walking, looking out at the fields and enjoying the sun. Not thinking about all the things I don’t want to think about. Just existing, or whatever poetic shit Hanna would say now. Until Watford appears.

Seeing the school appear in the distance is always overwhelming. It makes me all warm on the inside, like on that first day when I was 11 and arrived here for the first time. It makes me calm in a way that no other place on earth can. Watford is beautiful. It’s old and big and full of magic. So much magic in one place should be impossible.

When I’m a few yards away from the gates, I bend down and find a blade of grass that is blowing lightly in the wind. I pull out my wand, for the first time since the beginning of summer (no magic allowed at the flat share, because Hans keeps dating Normals) and whisper **Keep Calm and Carry On**. It’s my favourite spell. It’s the first one I use after every summer. The blade stops for a moment and then keeps on blowing in the wind, slightly slower than before. So my magic is just as shit as ever.

David once told me that I’m the worst Chosen One who’s ever been chosen. I would never ever tell him so, but I think he’s right. I have no idea how I’m supposed to save the World of Mages when there’s days where I can barely get out of bed. I think some days my energy is fuelled purely by the fact that I don’t want David to see me like that. He’s the only reason I get up in the morning sometimes.

That makes it sound like I like him. I don’t. He’s my archnemesis, so to speak. My evil roommate. The guy who’s going to off me if I don’t off him first.

Which is why I can’t let him see me like this. Broken. He’d never let me hear the end of it if he knew. That there’s something seriously wrong with me and I can’t seem to fix it. Magic can’t seem to fix it.

When I was younger, I used to think that magic could fix everything. It fixed the coffee cups that my parents broke when they had fights and it fixed all the bruises I got from playing with the other kids on the playground. But at some point, I realised that even magic has its limitations. It couldn’t fix my parents’ marriage and it couldn’t fix my mum. My parents aren’t exactly well liked mages. It’s unusual for mages to break up. You’re not supposed to. It’s all about keeping the community together to make us stronger and what not. And my mum isn’t really your average mage, either.

She tried to reject her magic. After my dad left, she did. She just decided she didn’t want it anymore. But she couldn’t get rid of it, so she decided to stop doing any magic. I used to live with her until I was 14. It wasn’t exactly the childhood home I’d imagined, but she was still my mum. Then they took her away. I spent the next summer in a care home and it was pretty much the worst summer of my life. I didn’t think I’d survive another summer there. I didn’t have to find out. Hans found me at the beginning of summer, when I had just ran away from the home. He took me in.

For the past two years, I’ve been spending my summers with Hans, his flatmates Linn and Mia and whatever new boyfriend he had at a time. Mia is in my year at Watford, actually. She never told me how she knows Hans or why she lives with him. We don’t really talk when we’re at school. We don’t really talk during the summer, either. Really, it’s just a lot of playing video games with Linn and listening to Hans talk about all the things he’s passionate about.

But I like it. Summer allows me to take my mind off of all the things I don’t want to think about. (Preferably ever.) During summer, I can pretend to just be a normal mage with normal flatmates and a normal life. No Chosen One bullshit, no responsibility to save the world, no annoying roommate who wants to kill me, nothing. Flamboyantly gay Hans, quiet Linn, Mia and me. Nothing to worry about except who takes out the trash and who cleans up the kitchen. (Mia, mostly. It annoys her endlessly.)

Don’t get me wrong though. I love Watford more than anything. When I was eleven years old and I had to leave behind my mum to go to Watford, I cried for an entire day. And then I arrived and I sat next to Jonas during dinner and I felt more at home than I had felt in my actual home in years.

Jonas has been my best friend since that first day at Watford. Magickal scholars are still debating the existence of soulmates but if they exist, I’m pretty sure that Jonas is mine. When we met, we clicked instantly. It wasn’t even a question. We just became best friends.

He’s already at Watford when I arrive. (Driven by his parents, as most students are. With their normal families and their normal parents and their cars that allow them to drive their bad thoughts away, or whatever.) He’s sitting at one of the tables, deep in conversation with Amira, and enthusiastically waving me over when he sees me.

Amira is our other best friend. She joined us at the end of first year, when we defeated the Humdrum for the first time. (I guess technically I did, but I wouldn’t have survived without the help of Jonas and Amira.) Together, Jonas and Amira make up two thirds of the top students of our class. (The other one is David. It’s a constant competition between the three of them. If I’m honest, I check out most of the time when it comes to their academic ambitions. I just can’t be bothered to care.)

Sometimes, it feels like the two of them exist in their own world, where I can barely understand half of what is going on. But they always make sure to make me feel included. I really am incredibly lucky to have them in my life.

“My favourite idiot!” Amira exclaims when she sees me. We do our handshake, the one we’ve perfected over the past few years. I can practically see David roll his eyes at us, even though he isn’t even in the room. (I used to feel like I needed to constantly be aware of what he was doing, at any time. It was almost obsessive.) (According to Amira, it was.)

I sit down between Amira and Jonas and that feeling of being at Watford, of being home, hits me like a wave.

“Luigi, brother, I missed you,” Jonas greets me. He gives me a hug, like he does every year after summer. It used to kill me. (I’m over that, though. I’m in a relationship with Sara and hugs from my best friend are not supposed to kill me.)

Just as Jonas asks “How is Hans?”, two hands cover my eyes.

“Who am I?” an all too familiar voice asks.

Speaking of the devil, I guess. Is it bad of me that I was hoping for a few hours with my friends without Sara showing up? It probably is. It probably makes me a really terrible person. (Does dating Sara in general make me a terrible person?)

Jonas and Amira exchange a look I can’t decipher when Sara kisses me and sits down between Jonas and me.

“How was your summer?” Amira asks politely, just as Jonas asks, “How is Leonie?”

Sara looks at Jonas with contempt in her eyes as she says: “She’s _your_ girlfriend. It’s not my problem that you upset her again.” Then she turns around to Amira and answers in that same fake tone that Amira used: “Good, thanks. Yours?”

Contrary to Jonas, who at least tries, Amira has never pretended to like Sara. In fifth year, Amira and her girls got into a fight with Sara and Leonie and neither of them have ever quite gotten over it. Both Amira and Sara explained their side of the story to me back then but I don’t remember either. Whatever their issues, it’s their problem, not mine.

I’ve never quite understood Amira and her girls. They’re a really tight group but Amira also spends a lot of time with us. I used to think she’d abandon us for them. And then she never did. She once explained to me that she needs some female friends to equal out all the dumbassery that she has to deal with from Jonas and me. And because she thinks her life should pass the Bechdel test. (And then she explained the Bechdel test to me.)

Thankfully, Amira and Sara’s very stilted conversation is interrupted when the Mage enters the dining hall. He’s wearing one of his ridiculous robes that make him look like a wizard straight out of a children’s book and for the start of the school year, he has apparently decided that he also needs to wear a classic wizard’s hat. It looks so ridiculous that Jonas and I both earn a punch on the arm from Amira for laughing too loudly.

The Mage joins the teachers that are already here at their table and it looks like he’s holding a conversation with them that’s even more stilted than Amira and Sara’s. It’s hard to take him seriously, what with his robe and all. And on top of that, we found out his actual name last year. It’s _Stefan_ , which just makes it even harder to take him seriously at all.

He used to intimidate me, back in first year, when I was young and easily frightened. But he just kept coming up with more and more ridiculous quests and he’s so fucking paranoid that the Old Families will take all his power away. It’s all so stupid. And he’s not even that old, I realised at some point. He must have been close to only 20 when I first came to Watford. He rose to power a few years after the last headmistress of Watford died. I don’t remember anything about that but it was a big deal and the World of Mages was close to collapsing, from what we’ve been taught. And then the Mage – _Stefan_ – came and saved us all. What a hero.

“How do you think he spent his holidays?” Jonas grins.

“Probably sacrificing some goats for fun,” Sara whispers. Jonas laughs just a little bit too much, so it’s clear that he’s trying to get in Sara’s good graces again. Or Leonie’s, probably. I don’t get their relationship, truly. They fight all the time and then they make up and are all happy and shit and then it takes them less than a week to fight again. I always lose track of whether they’re fighting or being in love at the moment.

“Do you think the Mage has a girlfriend?” Amira asks gleefully.

Jonas and Sara both make a face of disgust. Then they start spinning theories about his homelife that begin somewhere with “he’s very lonely” and end with “he’s a member of the Illuminati.” It’s good to be back.

…

Spending time with Amira and Jonas after not having seen them for the entire summer is almost too much. It’s everything I’ve been craving for the last few months. But now that I’m with them, finally able to see them and talk to them, I want to crawl out of my skin. I want to be alone. I’ve never wanted to be alone more badly in my life.

So after dinner is done, I excuse myself and tell them I’m tired after the long journey. It’s not even a lie.

There’s nothing I love more than having the room at the top of Moabit house for myself when I come back from summer vacation. David always arrives later than me. (He’s rich, the wanker, so he doesn’t have to care about train connections or the fact that the trains in this goddamn country are always late.)

So I get to spend the day lounging around my bed without any dismissive comments or looks from David. I get to take a bath without having to worry about him entering the bathroom, ready to murder me on the spot. I get to make a mess without David snarking at me to clean up my shit. It’s nice. It’s quiet.

But my bliss only lasts for about two hours because my time of peacefully smoking weed and listening to some rap is interrupted when I hear hooting on the stairs that unmistakably comes from Abdi and Carlos, David’s minions. I swear I can hear them call out his name. Not even a minute later, David enters the room and gives me the most derogatory look he must have ever given anyone. I can feel the disappointment coming off him. The disgust at seeing me.

“Disappointed I’m still alive?” I ask him. Because I’m bored. Because I’m itching for something, anything. Even a fight with David is better than how I’m feeling right now, even if I’ll feel terrible afterwards. (I always do, while he bathes in glory.)

“Every year,” he says dryly. He starts immediately unpacking his clothes, clearly not in the mood for talking to me. (He never is, I remind myself. We don’t talk. We only crash.)

“You’re early,” I say, then. Because I’m not ready to stop talking.

“So what?” He sounds properly annoyed now.

“So, I like our room better without you in it.” I’ve started and I can’t stop now.

“Well, pity for you, because I’m not planning on giving up the best room in the house only to stay with Abdi and listen to his snores all night.” (What a liar. He begged the Mage to allow him to change room when we were drawn together by the Crucible in our very first year. We both did.)

“Abdi wouldn’t share a room with you anyway,” I counter. It’s a really bad counter. If David asked them to, Carlos and Abdi would give up their room and sleep on the lawn for him.

David doesn’t even dignify me with a response, just looks at me and the joint in my hand disapprovingly and then vanishes to the bathroom. (He’s insanely vain. He spends at least 30 minutes in there every morning and evening. I guess he is handsome enough to justify it. Not that I think about how handsome David is or isn’t. I don’t.)

Despite how much I want to hate him and how little I want to listen to him on anything, I put out my joint and reluctantly start unpacking my stuff too. I’m not even half as fast as he is and in the end, everything still looks like a mess, but I can’t be bothered to clean up my stuff properly. David doesn’t even make a snarky comment.

I’d never admit it, but that first night, hearing David breathe and knowing I’m not alone in this room, I sleep better than I have all summer. It’s like, after everything that went down with the Humdrum at the end of last school year, I was holding my breath all this time, waiting for everything to blow up in my face. And now I’m back here and everything is normal and I can finally breathe again.

…

The blessed days full of sun and spending time with my friends don’t last long enough. They never do. When the weekend is over, classes start again and now that we’re in our last year, all our teachers feel like they need to treat us even rougher. Like they need to train us for the real world out there. Some days, I want to scream at them about everything that’s happened to me and all the magickal creatures I’ve had to defeat. How is learning about potions going to help me if I’m faced with a dragon? (I have been, once before. I just ran away.)

That first excruciating day of classes passes so slowly that I’m almost certain that someone hexed all the clocks in this school. It feels like it all flies over my head, like I don’t really understand anything the teachers are saying. I’d be lost if I didn’t have Jonas and Amira, who are too ambitious to miss a single word that is said in class. They’ll help me later, even if they’ll shake their heads at me.

Being back at Watford also means, for better or worse, spending time with Sara. We started dating last year, finally, after years of her making moves and me trying to ignore them. The whole school expected us to date, or that’s what it felt like. Sara and I have been friends for a long time, almost since we started school. She’s funny and kind and sometimes a little naïve and annoying, but I like her well enough. Really, Sara is perfect. If only I liked her the way she likes me. (That’s one of the things I don’t think about, ever.)

Now that summer is over and we haven’t seen each other for two months (Mage’s orders), Sara wants to spend as much time together as possible. Which is fine, if she wants to tell me about her summer and how she went horseback riding and met up with all her Normal friends, but not as fun if she wants to make out. Which she does, of course. Sara says it’s not true but I think I’m a really bad kisser. I have to be, with how awkward kissing Sara always feels.

I can’t take too much of spending time with Sara, so I excuse myself after a while and tell her I still have stuff to unpack. She looks a little disappointed but tells me she understands. She really is too good for me.

When I return to our room, David is naked. Well, not fully naked. But he’s not wearing a shirt. I’ve never seen him without a shirt on. We don’t ever change in front of each other.

But now he’s in the middle of changing and he clearly wasn’t expecting me because he’s lying on his bed and he’s not wearing a shirt. He must have gotten surgery over summer. I don’t want to stare. I really, really don’t want to. But there’s something so vulnerable about seeing him like this. Almost as if he’s human.

(He’s not. Not fully, at least. He’s a vampire. He will never admit it, but I know.)

Then I realise I’ve been staring at him for way too long, so I clear my throat. And then I feel like I need to say something because I’ve stayed quiet for way too long.

In hindsight, maybe “looks good” wasn’t the ideal thing to say. But it’s true. It looks really, really good.

Everything about David does.

He’s the best-looking guy in our year, for sure. Probably in the entire school. He’s bloody perfect. It’s annoying. Not that I spend a mentionable part of my days thinking about how perfect David is. I don’t.

“If your thoughts are bothering you, take a deep breath. Drive them away.”

**David**

Watching Matteo Florenzi try to do a simple hoovering charm is like watching a car crash. It’s almost physically painful, how bad he is at it. He swivels around his wand, in a way that suggests he’s not comfortable with it at all (and he’s had it for over seven years now). And then he whispers the words, way quieter than anyone else in the classroom, and nothing happens. He’s never been able to really control his magic. It’s always slipping out and having a life on its own. There’s too much of it.

Matteo Florenzi is pure magic. I’ve never seen anything like it. No one has. When he was born, something in the magickal atmosphere shifted. Apparently, every mage alive could feel it. That something powerful had happened. Someone powerful. At least that’s what they say. I don’t remember, of course. I was only a few months old, barely old enough to perceive anything, let alone what the magickal atmosphere was doing.

That’s not what I tell Florenzi though. I tell him that the moment he was born, I knew he was going to be my greatest enemy. I think he believes it, the idiot. I was four months old, for Crowley’s sake. I didn’t even know what magic was yet.

Matteo Florenzi is also the most oblivious, daft person to ever exist. He saw me without my shirt earlier. And then he told me it “looks good” after staring at my naked chest for what felt like eternity. And then he fled to the bathroom. He’s an idiot. The worst part is that I think he meant it.

I know he doesn’t have a problem with me being trans. We talked about it, once, when we were 12. I think he did a lot of research that year, to make sure he didn’t make me uncomfortable. He told me that he doesn’t mind and that he isn’t going to let anyone act shitty towards me because of it. And then he told me that he still thinks I’m evil and he’s going to fight me if he has to.

We both know that he’s going to have to fight me one day. There’s a war coming and we’re on opposite sides of it. There’s no choice. Neither of us has a choice.

I think he used to be excited for the fight. He used to overflow with energy and he always seemed like all he wanted was a place to put all of his magic. I guess I should have been more scared for my own life. But lately, I don’t think he wants to fight anymore. He’s different. He’s quieter. Sadder. Some days, I just want to grab him and get him out of here, far away. Hide him in some long forgotten family cottage and don’t let anyone find him. Get him away from all the pressure, from having to be the Chosen One, from having to be anyone. Let him just be a boy.

Then I remember that we’re enemies.

I figured it out in 4th year. Matteo was lying on his bed, his eyes closed, his hands clamped over his headphones, listening to music and looking like all he wanted to do was vanish. And all I wanted to do was take him away and make sure he was okay for the rest of his life. That’s when I realised I was in love with him. Irreversibly, hopelessly in love with him.

I told him one night. We got stupidly drunk on fairy dust and spent the entire evening hiding from the Mage, dancing carelessly to Carlos’ cheesy playlist because he’d forgotten his phone in our room and laughing until our entire faces hurt. Until we were exhausted and lying on the floor and Florenzi turned his head to me and asked me, suddenly serious: “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you,” I’d answered. Because I couldn’t say anything but the truth in that moment.

He had laughed mirthlessly. “You sure act like you do,” he’d said accusingly.

“What if I told you …,“ I’d started and I almost didn’t finish the sentence, but I was drunk enough to not care: “… that I could never hate you.”

He’d blinked at me and I’m not sure he even got it, but he’d just shrugged, closed his eyes and dozed off.

I’d said it then. Just to say it. To have said it out loud, once in my life.

“I love you, Matteo Florenzi.”

I’m fairly certain he didn’t hear me. And even if he did, he didn’t remember a thing next morning. I know that for certain. He woke up and accused me of trying to kill him in his sleep because he had such a bad headache. At least he had the audacity to look a little ashamed when I told him that that he’d danced to Miley Cyrus without a care in the world the night before.

That was before he started to constantly smoke weed. Half of the time when I come into our room, he’s not even there. Just lying around, spaced out, thinking I won’t notice that there’s something going on with him. And then I pretend not to notice. Because I’m supposed to hate him. I’m not supposed to notice.

Being in love with your roommate isn’t fun. Being in love with your roommate who hates you and is ready to kill you if it comes down to it is even less fun. Especially since he has a girlfriend.

She’s actually quite nice, Sara. I could be friends with her, I think. If she wasn’t Florenzi’s girlfriend and she wasn’t so damn into him.

I play on the Watford football team with her best friend, Leonie. They’re inseparable, which is slightly annoying because where Leonie goes, Sara goes, and where Sara goes, Florenzi goes. Which means he’s at every single football game of ours. And then he complains about them afterwards in our room. As if he knew a single thing about football.

The only good thing about this whole convoluted situation is that Leonie doesn’t have any problem showing her dislike for Florenzi. She roasts him endlessly when she has the opportunity. And if she doesn’t have one, she makes one. It’s very entertaining.

I asked her once what her issue with him is and all she told me was: “He doesn’t deserve Sara.”

I’m not quite sure what she meant because he was still all golden boy back then. Like a ray of sunshine or something else that makes me want to puke. Perfect, shining Matteo Florenzi. The Chosen One. The one who comes to save us all.

I’m torn from my dark thoughts of perfect Florenzi by Abdi clapping me on the back after our charms lesson, the last of the day.

“How did your charms go?” he asks.

“Are you insinuating that they were anything but perfect? Run for your life,” Carlos smirks. They’re idiots, both of them. I tell them so.

Abdi shrugs and starts telling us about the girl he kind of, maybe, if you close both your eyes, had a romance with this summer. He hasn’t stopped talking about her since we’ve come back to Watford. I know all about her shiny hair and beautiful eyes and how funny she is by now. I could talk about her in my sleep. (I really hope I don’t.) Carlos rolls his eyes, just a little, but he keeps encouraging Abdi to tell us more.

They’ve been my best friends since we were 11. Abdi’s family belongs to the Old Families, so we’ve seen each other at posh events ever since we were kids. Carlos’ parents are high-ranking politicians, which, according to my father, makes him just good enough to be my friend. Carlos decided that Abdi was going to be his best friend from the moment they met. I’m not sure how I ended up being friends with them. They’re a lot sillier than me, always fooling around and making everyone crack up. They’re all laughter and jokes and normal teenagers. (Not, you know, actual vampires. Which I definitely am not either, at least officially.)

Laura says they’re good for me. That they equal out all my pretentiousness and darkness. She says it’s good to have some funny people in my life. Some normal people, whose entire lives don’t revolve around the Mage and politics and how to defeat the Humdrum. I think she’s a bit worried about me sometimes, but I guess that’s normal for older sisters. She really doesn’t have to be. Not while I’m still at Watford and the war hasn’t started yet.

But I think she’s right. Abdi and Carlos are good for me. They make me laugh, way more than I want them to. My life would be a lot blander without them in it. Not that I’d ever tell them that.

There’s a whole set of rules in place for our friendship. We don’t talk about my family, ever. Laura is the only exception because they know and adore her. They know I’m trans and I’m pretty sure they also know I’m not straight. (Carlos once told me that I dress too good not to be gay.) They don’t know I’m a vampire because no one does, except for Laura and the rest of my dysfunctional family. (And Matteo, potentially, but I will never admit that he’s been right all along with his theories. I’ll make sure that he doubts he’s right for the rest of his life.) They also definitely don’t know about my feelings for our Chosen One. I’d rather set myself aflame than admit that to anyone, ever.

Carlos and Abdi, on the other hand, tell me and each other everything. I definitely know too much about Carlos’ relationship with his girlfriend Kiki and where exactly Abdi grows body hair and what he does with it. I’ve heard them both drunkenly sing along to One Direction one too many times and I know all about their biggest fears and insecurities. They’re like open books, both of them. Sometimes I feel bad, about them constantly giving and never receiving anything back from my end. But I don’t think they mind, really. It’s the way it’s always been and we all know it will stay this way forever. (Or, well, until we’re proper adults and inevitably grow apart.)

I can only take so much of Abdi telling me about making out with his new girlfriend or not-quite-girlfriend, so I excuse myself and pay the football field my first visit of the year. It’s one of my favourite places at Watford. And when there’s no practice going on, it’s usually empty, so it’s a good place to come to when I need to be on my own for a bit. Football is the one good thing in my life, it sometimes feels like. When I’m on the field, running after the ball and thinking strategically, everything else vanishes. It’s just me and the game.

Today, however, the field is occupied by Florenzi and his friends. Of course. How else could it be, with the luck I have in my life? There’s the whole gang of them. Florenzi, resident golden boy, next to his best friend Jonas Augustin, just as much of an idiot as Florenzi. Leonie, who is dating Augustin (the only time I really doubt her taste). Amira Mahmood, who is really the only decent one out of all of them and definitely the most intelligent one of the bunch. Hanna Jung, too sweet and nice to hate her but also very obviously in love with Augustin. (What is it with all those girls being into him?) And of course Sara, sitting in Florenzi’s lap and looking too happy for her own good.

The field is big enough that I could sit down at the opposite end and draw a little, but I know it would inevitably end in a confrontation with Florenzi and I’m not in the mood for that, so I turn back around and return to our room, which I at least know will be empty now.

Florenzi and I have fought constantly since being back. It’s like we’re on each other’s toes even more, now that our final year has started. Like we know that everything is going to change after this. We used to pull pranks on each other and have physical fights constantly. But we calmed down a bit in the past years. I’m not about to ruin my final exams at Watford because of a dumb feud with the boy I’m in love with. I’m not about to concern myself with him much this year at all. I’ll just live my life in peace and ignore the magickal elephant in the room and push all my feelings away like I’m used to doing.

I get to enjoy solitude for a few hours before Florenzi returns to the room after tea and starts messing about all over the room. We used to have a divide going through it, his side and mine, but we realised quickly that that doesn’t work. So now we just huff at each other if we get too close. He’s almost unbearable tonight, so I leave him be and take a stroll on the school ground. That’s always a good excuse to go hunt for some rats. It’s not even been a week and I already want to murder someone.

But it’s nice to be back. I have to admit that. I love living with Laura during the summers and I miss her a lot during the school year, but our flat in London has never quite felt the same as Watford. Watford is my home, in a way no other place has ever been. I don’t know what I’ll do when I leave for good at the end of this year.

Maybe I’ll finally at least be able to drink something other than the rats in the catacombs. They’re alright, and drinking their blood makes me feel less disgusting than drinking big animals but I have to drain so many of them to feel even remotely full. It’s always a mess. After draining about six of them, I whisper a quick **Be Gone** and watch their lifeless bodies disappear into nothingness. I make my way back to the room in the dark, now that everyone is fast asleep and no one will notice me being out after bedtime.

When I enter our room, Florenzi is snoring lightly and I allow myself to look at him for a moment. I used to do this all the time in fifth year. Wait for him to fall asleep and then stare at him for half the night, resulting in constant fatigue and a noticeable drop in my grades. It was burning me up from inside. When I came back the summer after, I was determined to not waste all my time pining after a boy who will be scared of me for the rest of our lives. So I forced myself to sleep and only stare at him occasionally. Like the nights after we had really big fights, when it felt like I could never forgive myself for how I was treating him, or the night after he fought the Humdrum and looked like the little 11-year old boy I’d first met again. And nights like today. Where I need something to hold onto so I don’t drive myself crazy with my thoughts of what next year will bring. (Laura is convinced the Old Families will start a war against the Mage. And Florenzi and I will be on opposite sides of that war, there’s no doubt about that. If we don’t tear each other up before then.)

So I look at his face that I could trace in my sleep and I try not to think about the future or how much he hates me. None of that matters right now. I’m home and he’s home too and I get another year of seeing him every day, even if that’s never enough. It will never be enough but it’s all I’ll ever get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, David got a bit dramatic at the end there. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and we'll see each other (hopefully) next Thursday!


	3. Chapter Two: Beautiful Sins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I’m very sorry for the delay in the upload of this chapter. I’m only just getting back into writing, especially multi-chaptered fics, and so I really underestimated how much time this chapter would take. I also have to admit that I’m generally a bit overwhelmed with the current situation and not very motivated to do anything. I wish I could tell you that the chapters will be on time from now on, but overall, I think I’ve uploaded at least half of everything I’ve ever written a bit late, so expecting them on Friday might be better. 
> 
> A few general things I should have mentioned at the beginning of last chapter but forgot:
> 
> 1\. The title of this fic is taken form Bohemian Rhapsody, as a little nod to Carry On, which is also (partly) inspired by Bohemian Rhapsody. Also because I’m shit at coming up with titles.  
> 2\. The chapters will be around the length of the first chapter, though maybe a bit shorter. They will have more plot in the future, I promise.  
> 3\. Sometimes, I look up stuff that was mentioned in Carry On (like spells or classes) and sometimes, I just make stuff up. Embrace the chaos, I guess.  
> 4\. When David and Matteo talk about football, they mean soccer, not American football. It’s probably irrelevant to the story but I felt like it was important to clarify.  
> 5\. The playlists I linked to in the last chapter are partially songs that fit the story, partially what I listened to while writing and partially songs that give me the same vibes as I’m trying to convey with this. So basically, it’s all a big mess. Also, if you criticize my music taste, I WILL add Senorita.  
> 6\. I posted this in maybe the messiest way possible so in case you missed it, there’s a (very short) prologue to this story. It may or may not be relevant later on. (Fingers crossed for future me.) 
> 
> Anyway, here's Chapter Two: Shit boyfriends, too much magic, Oscar Wilde, absent mothers and a truce.  
> This chapter is very Matteo-centred but there will be more David in the future, I promise. The title of today’s chapter is from The Picture of Dorian Gray, because, again, I’m bad at coming up with titles. Once again, I’m sorry for the posting delay (best case, there will be a shorter wait for the next chapter though) and I hope you enjoy chapter two!

**Chapter Two: Beautiful Sins**

**Matteo**

When I was 10, a Normal girl in my neighbourhood wanted to be my girlfriend. I told her No at first but when she offered to share her packet of Monster Munch with me, I accepted. We were dating for all of four days, until she decided she was bored of me and shared her Wotsits with another boy in our neighbourhood. We didn’t even hold hands or spend much time together while we were together. She just went around telling everyone that I was her boyfriend now, until I wasn’t.

When Sara asked me if I wanted to date her last winter, it felt a little like that. Like we were two children on a playground, playing pretend. Except this time, dating her involved holding her hands (a lot more than I thought two people could hold hands) and making out at the parties our class threw in the catacombs or the Wavering Wood. And sometimes also making out in Sara’s room, when Leonie wasn’t there. Or my room, when David was there. (Just out of spite, to remind him that I’m in a relationship and he’s not.)

Being with Sara is really not that bad. We’ve been friends for ages, so we actually get along well. Sometimes, it feels like not much has changed since we started dating. We just spend more time alone now. And the kissing. That’s new. (It’s decidedly not my favourite part of being in a relationship.)

I think I got used to it, sometime last year. To having someone there, someone I always had to think about. But also someone who was there for me, which was nice. It’s nice to have someone who feels like your person, even if you’re not really in love with them. I can even handle all the hand-holding and kissing.

But it’s been weird with Sara since we came back. _Sara_ has been weird. She’s clingier than ever, but at the same time, it feels like she’s not really there. As if she has her own things on her mind, just like I have mine.

If I was a good boyfriend, I would ask her about it. If I was a good boyfriend, I’d be there for her and comfort her and just fucking care that my girlfriend is obviously not doing well. But I’m a shit boyfriend and so I never ask her how she feels, just kiss her when she wants to kiss me and hold her hand when she wants to hold hands and sometimes, I even manage to put my arm around her shoulders without her having to tell me to do so.

Right now, I’m decidedly failing at being a decent boyfriend though, because Sara has been talking to me for the past few minutes and I haven’t been paying attention at all. I can feel the disdain come off Leonie, like it always does when we spend time together. (Sometimes, I think Leonie hates me even more than David hates me. Then I remember that that’s impossible.)

“… and then she showed me her tattoo. I mean, did I ask?” Sara is laughing and I have no idea who she’s talking about. “It wasn’t even a nice tattoo, it was really ugly. I think it was supposed to be a unicorn but really, it looked more like an ill-proportioned dolphin.”

I’m starting to drift off again when a loud slam next to me shakes me from my thoughts.

Amira has put down her plate with full force, absolute disgust in her eyes. I have no idea why she’s so upset but it seems directed at Sara. She’s not saying anything though, just angrily starts spreading clotted cream on her scone.

Her dramatic entrance makes Sara and Leonie exchange a knowing look that’s filled with some implicit judgment which leads to Sara doing her best to hold back her laughter. Except she starts choking on her own breath and is coughing like she’s about to die. Amira just keeps staring at her, making no move to help her. Not even Leonie does anything, just looks at me with an unspoken challenge in her eyes.

So I tentatively clap Sara on the back. That’s what you’re supposed to do if someone is coughing, right? Sara slaps my hand away though and looks at me with indignation.

Once she’s calmed down a bit, she chokes out: “You’re a mage, Matteo! You’re supposed to be good at magic!”

Then she gets up and storms off, Leonie on her heels. I don’t even know what I did wrong. Amira just shakes her head when I look at her for guidance, so we keep eating our scones in silence, mine with at least twice as much clotted cream and marmalade as hers.

…

In my first year at Watford, I loved every second of my lessons. I was so excited to learn about magic, to get better at controlling my own, to become a proper mage. Then I realised I sucked at doing all that.

Now, I can’t wait until we get to the weekend. Jonas and I started drinking beer in fourth year (much to Amira’s disdain) and smoking weed two years ago (even more to Amira’s disdain). We used to spend every weekend getting drunk or high and stumbling around the school grounds, trying not to get caught. Amira saved our asses way more often than we can ever possibly pay her back for.

Now that Jonas is with Leonie, he tries to spend as much time as possible with her, which leaves me to either spend time with Sara or be on my own. The second option is decisively my favourite. Especially now, when the weather is good and David spends a good amount of time outside, collecting ingredients for his dark rituals or whatever it is he does. Which means I can lie around in our room, chilling and sleeping, unbothered by a complaining David.

I used to have so much energy I didn’t know where to put it all. I tried to get rid of it constantly, burn it off by playing football with the guys from our class or channel it into magic. Put it into all the fights David and I used to have, with words or our fists. (I broke his jaw once. He threw me down the stairs in retaliation.)

Seventh year changed everything. Seeing the Humdrum changed everything.

He’s always been there, for as long as I can remember. The biggest threat to our world. The biggest threat to magic. He’s going to destroy us all if we don’t stop him first. If _I_ don’t stop him.

But he was mostly a sleeping threat so far, never appearing in person. He just sent his monsters after me, made me fight them all. I used to think he wanted me to spend all my magic to then show up and defeat me, but he never did. He was always waiting, for who knows what. Better times, probably, like all of us. Until last year.

The Humdrum looked like me. He looked precisely like my fourteen-year-old self. And not just in general. I knew immediately what day he looked like. He wore a dishevelled shirt, washed out and with an ironically happy Luigi on the front. His hair was standing up in all directions. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He looked so done. It’s what I wore the day my mum left. That’s how I looked when I realised that she was gone.

I almost didn’t manage to fight the Humdrum off, but Jonas and Amira got me through it. They got us all out of there as quickly as possible while I held the Humdrum in check for as long as I could. It took away all of my energy.

After that, all I wanted to do was sleep for a week. And I did. I barely got out of bed, barely ate anything, barely talked to anyone. I just slept and tried to get the picture of the Humdrum out of my head. Get the picture of _me_ out of my head.

It’s still there. Every time I close my eyes, that’s what I see. Sad, broken, fourteen-year-old me. The only way to get rid of the picture is when I use magic or get high. And since I suck at magic, well, in weed I trust.

**David**

My father once told me that I’m wasting my time with my art. When I was 12 and I came home from Watford with a notebook full of scribbles and sketches, he made me burn it. I’ve rarely seen Laura as angry as she was on that night (“He’s flammable!”) but father didn’t even apologize. Just told Laura, “I hope he learned his lesson, then.” She promised to make sure he didn’t touch my sketches the next year but she didn’t have to. I didn’t bring any home again.

I never stopped drawing them though. Whatever pisses off my father is good enough for me. And I love drawing. I love it more than anything, except maybe football and Matteo Florenzi.

I’m sketching now, just randomly. I never noticed it before then, but in third year, Abdi pointed out that I’m rarely ever not drawing anything. When I’m in class, even when I’m paying attention, I leave the classroom with all my notes full of little doodles. All my books are full of them, too. Even my desk has little drawings everywhere.

But the most drawings of all, more than any other thing I own, are in my copy of _Dorian Gray_. I’ve drawn almost every character in some place. And it’s not just doodles, either. There’s notes in the margins of almost every page, thoughts I had while reading, some related to the book, some random things that happened on the day I was reading that page. I once wrote down an entire letter to my father, only to then cross it all out until it became unreadable. In fifth year, I charmed the book so I’d be the only one who could open it because I was too paranoid about Florenzi reading through my notes. But he seems too repulsed by books for that to be a feasible option.

I’ve read the book so often by now that I basically know it by heart. I rarely reread the entire book but I’m constantly reading parts of it. Right now, I’m rereading the end of chapter 6. I keep coming back to one quote, so I underline it. Then I feel like that’s not enough for how grandiose of a quote it is, so I write it down in my sketchbook, just above the doodle of a goblin I drew in class earlier. _You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit._

I’m just reading on when a little scrap of paper falls into my lap.

“I’m supposed to give you this,” a small voice says. When I look up, there’s a boy standing there. He looks barely old enough to be in first year.

“By who?” I ask cautiously. I usually have enough of a reputation to not be bothered with pranks but you never know with these first years.

“I don’t know,” the boy stammers and desperately looks over to a group of other children that are clearly waiting for him.

I do my very best to keep my composure and not get angry at him. He’s only a child. An annoying child, but only a child.

“Well, where did you get it from?” I ask as calmly as I can muster.

“It was in my post,” he explains. He looks more scared with every minute that passes.

“Your post?” This is getting more and more ridiculous. I’m convinced it’s a prank now.

“Yes. It was just in there, between my letters, and it’s addressed to the room at the top of Moabit house. That’s your room, right?” The poor boy looks like he’s only seconds away from pissing himself, so I decide to drop it and just nod. He runs away as fast as he can, towards his friends that are awaiting him with apprehension.

The scrap of paper is folded at least three times. It’s empty on one side but when I turn it over, there’s _Top room of Moabit house_ and then a little _M_ written on it. So it’s not mine. I put it away and try to read on.

 _“I have known everything,” said Lord Henry_ _…_ It feels like the paper is burning in the pocket of my pants. Just ignore it, I tell myself. It’s not for you. _“I have known everything,” said Lord Henry, with a tired look in his eyes …_ It doesn’t even say Matteo. There’s just an M. That’s not necessarily him, is it? _… said Lord Henry, with a tired look in his eyes …_ Of course it’s him. Who else would it be? _… with a tired look in his eyes, “but I am always ready for a new emotion.”_ I shouldn’t read it. But I’m so curious.

There’s a note. There’s a note and it’s clearly not addressed to me and I open it anyway. I know I shouldn’t have, as soon as I read it. It’s way too intimate and definitely not meant to be read by anyone else but Matteo. I try folding it back together but it’s a lost cause. The seal is broken now anyway. 

Fuck.

**Matteo**

I’m just lying on the floor of our room and contemplating how David manages to keep all his stuff so neat when I notice that the book is gone. It’s always on his nightstand and right now, it’s gone. It’s his favourite book, I’m pretty sure. _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ by Oscar Wilde. When I told Amira about it, she got all giddy, telling me about how good of a book it is and how I should absolutely read it. Of course I didn’t. I chose all my classes so they’d align with Jonas’ and Amira’s but I couldn’t bring myself to choose English Literature and Culture. Apparently, it’s important to stay in touch with the culture and whatever is popular at the moment because it makes our spells stronger, since they’re connected to the Normal world and all. The Mage tried to get me to take the class but I saw the reading list they gave out to students, so I chose Magickal Computer Sciences instead. At least that class is interesting. (The only downside to it, really, is that David chose it as well.)

I’ve just moved on to the foot of my own bed, where all my schoolbooks for this semester are stacked. It’s a dangerously lopsided pile, the top book only millimetres from falling off. For a moment, I wonder whether Amira has secretly spelled it secure when she was in here earlier this week but those thoughts are interrupted by a pair of feet coming into my field of vision. When I follow the school uniform (ironed, of course), I find myself looking at David’s face.

“What do you want?” I ask gruffly.

He’s not saying anything. Instead he’s looking at me and he looks … embarrassed? Like we’re five and he secretly ate my chocolate and doesn’t want to admit it. Which is ridiculous. David would eat my chocolate right in front of me and then boast about it.

“What’s going on?” I ask again.

He clears his throat. And then he holds out his hand. At first, I think he wants to help me up or something. But then I see that he’s holding something. A small paper.

“Uhm … I really didn’t mean to read it,” he starts. “But it was given to me and … well, I’m sorry. Anyway, it’s yours.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. But he keeps holding the paper in front of me, so I sit up and take it. I half expect it to blow up in my face.

But it doesn’t. It’s just a piece of paper. A scrap, really. It has to be smaller than my hand. On it, there’s only two sentences.

_Do you remember our summer holidays and how peaceful they always were? I miss those times and I miss you._

When I turn it around, there’s an _M_ written in one corner, next to _Top room of Moabit house_. There’s no proper address, not even Watford, no mention of my name, no indication that this is really meant for me, but I know immediately. I know exactly who it’s from.

I don’t know what to do with all the feelings I’m having, all the confusion and hurt, so I do the only thing I know how to do. I direct it towards David.

“Why did you read this? It was clearly not addressed to you.”

He looks like a deer caught in the headlights. It would almost be satisfying, to have the upper hand for once, if I wasn’t so goddamn angry.

“I’m really sorry, Florenzi. I didn’t realise … I didn’t think. I shouldn’t have …”

“No, you shouldn’t!”

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out of it, so I scoff and angrily storm out of our room. I don’t even know why I’m so angry. I would have done exactly the same in his place. I would have opened the letter even if it was unmistakeably addressed to _David Schreibner, extraordinarily shitty vampire and arsehole_.

But there’s all these feelings inside of me and it’s easier to be angry than vulnerable. Especially if I have someone to be angry at. David, the worst roommate on earth. The Mage, for constantly interfering with my life and never leaving me in peace. My dad, for fucking off when stuff got difficult. My mum, for leaving me alone.

I wander around aimlessly on the grounds, careful to avoid any people I might have to talk to, and I desperately try to keep all the magic that keeps boiling to the surface inside of me. I can’t let it all out, not right now. Not when I have even less control over it than I usually do. So I swallow it down as best as I can and I try to take deep breaths and not think about how angry I am. At the universe, for making me the Chosen One. For constantly ruining my life. For creating the Humdrum and sending him after me. And for making me share my room with David, who just _apologised_ to me. I don’t think he’s ever apologised to me before. We don’t do that. So why did he?

…

It must have been at least two hours since I stormed out at David but when I get back to our room, he still looks the same.

He opens his mouth (whether to apologize again or to insult me I don’t know), but I cut him off before he can say anything: “It’s fine.”

He nods, still looking a little bit embarrassed.

I try to ignore him, sit down at my desk and take up one of our books for class. I don’t even know which book it is, just try to distract myself from David’s gaze that I know is still fixed on me. I don’t last long though.

“What?” I snap and turn around.

“Nothing,” David answers.

“You keep staring at me,” I accuse him.

“I don’t.”

Arguing with David is the most frustrating thing in the world. He never admits he’s wrong. Sometimes I think he’s incapable of doing that. He just genuinely can’t. Never learned how to do it. And yet, I can never stop myself from arguing with him.

“Yes, you do.”

“Do not.”

I sigh. “What do you want?”

“Your head on a stick,” David grins. I should have seen that one coming.

When we were younger, I never knew whether he was serious or not when he said stuff like that. Now, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean it. At least 98% sure. Or maybe 97%.

I decide to ignore him and turn back to my book. (Which I have now realised is _101 Remedies for a Broken Heart_. It’s bullshit. It’s not even a school book. It’s a stupid book Linn gave to me at the end of summer because she thought it might help me feel better again.)

We stay in silence for all of five minutes before David starts again: “Do you know who sent the note?”

“Why does it interest you?” I ask back.

“It doesn’t.”

I sigh and turn back to the book for lost, broken hearted souls again. I even manage to read a sentence, something about how tea that is infused with chocolate and a strand of hair by the person who broke your heart will help you get over your heartbreak. This is definitely not a legit book. I’m not even sure it was written by a real magician.

But I can feel David’s eyes drilling into the back of my head, so I finally give in and turn around for good.

“Why are you so curious?” I want to know.

He shrugs. “I read it already, you can tell me who it’s by.”

I think about it for a minute, about what telling him means. Then I decide that it doesn’t matter. It’s not like the note is changing anything.

“My mum.”

David looks like he wants to ask more but I don’t give him anything else so he nods and turns back to his goddamn book. (Dorian Gray again, of course. He’s even writing something in the margins now, like he does with every book he owns.)

We sit like that for a few moments, David reading his stupid book (he must know it by heart by now) and me staring at an illustration of how to enhance the effect of forget-me-nots if you cut them a certain way. But my mind keeps circling back to David apologising. Why did he do that?

When I’ve stared at the expression _plethora of fragrance_ without really getting it for a good few minutes , I finally give up and slam my book closed. I can see David’s eyes moving but other than that, he gives no indication that he heard me. So I clear my throat. This time, he shakes his head a little, but still gives no reaction.

“David?” I ask after a while.

“What do you want, Florenzi?” So he’s back to being all hostile.

“If you answer my question, I will answer a question you have in return.” I don’t know why I’m doing this.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then, his curiosity gets the better of him. This is what I was counting on. For all his perfect, cold exterior, David is one of the most curious people I’ve ever met. He wants to know everything.

“Alright,” he agrees. “Why isn’t she sending you normal letters?”

“I don’t know,” I explain. I wish I knew. Why this weird letter? Why now? Why like this?

I feel bad for him wasting his question like this, so I add: “I haven’t heard anything from her in years.” I regret it immediately. That was too much information to give my nemesis.

David doesn’t show any reaction or any indication of asking me for my question, so I just ask him bluntly: “Why did you apologise to me?”

He looks at me like he doesn’t get the question. He knows exactly what I mean, the tosser.

“Seriously, why did you?” I ask again.

“Because it’s polite to apologise and unlike you, I was raised to be polite,” he answers finally. We both know it’s not the truth. David is never polite to me.

But I don’t ask any further. Instead, we go back to silence.

It doesn’t last long this time, either.

“What happened to your mum, anyway?” David asks. He seems genuinely curious, like he’s not just asking because he’s trying to find a way to get me down.

“None of your business,” I mumble. I am _not_ discussing my family’s history with David. No way. “Besides, you’ve had your question.”

“Well, your answer wasn’t very good,” he counters.

I sigh and look at him with the most annoyed look I can muster. “Fine.” I don’t know why I’m agreeing to this. Because I’m still slightly high. Because I’m bored. (Because, if I’m truly honest, I’m itching to talk to someone about this, even if it’s David.) 

David turns around in his chair until he’s fully oriented towards me and looks at me like he waits for me to tell him a bedtime story.

“She … well, she ….” I need to take a breath. How the fuck do I even begin to tell David what happened?

He keeps looking at me and he nods, only slightly, as if to tell me that it’s okay. That I can trust him and take my time and it will all be alright. What kind of parallel universe have we ended up in where David is encouraging me to tell him all my most intimate secrets?

But I stare back at him and I try to focus on his eyes that are looking at me so clearly. I don’t think I’ve ever really looked at David’s eyes. They’re so much warmer than I thought they would be. So much nicer.

I take a deep breath again and don’t let my gaze waver (neither does he). It feels like something is lifted, some block that was there before and I can finally tell him.

“My mum … she was so in love with my dad. Like, really, really in love with him. And then they started fighting all the time and it was horrible. But she still loved him. When he left … she couldn’t take it. She was so different after. So much quieter and sadder. She always had a lot of magic and when he left, she said she’d never use it again. She swore not to. But of course, the Mage didn’t like that and so he … he made her go away. He _took_ her away.”

“What do you mean, took her away? Is she in prison?”

I can feel tears forming behind my eyes and I’m trying very hard not to let them surface. I can’t let David see me any weaker than he already has.

“I don’t know,” I get out eventually. “I don’t know where she is. All I know is that she’s not here anymore. And that it’s the Mage’s fault.”

David nods, like he understands me. Like he understands everything. I’m not used to seeing him like this, full of compassion and sympathy. It’s not how he usually behaves towards me. It’s not how he usually behaves towards anyone.

“I haven’t heard anything from her, no indication that she’s even alive, until this letter,” I finally conclude.

We sit in silence for a moment. I have to avert my gaze now because David is still staring at me so intently, like he’s reading everything that’s written behind my eyes. Something weird is happening here.

“I’ll help you, if you want,” he offers.

“With what?” I ask.

“With finding your mum.” He says it like it’s a fact. Like he knows I’ll try to look for her now and he also knows that I’ll find her, if I just search enough. I hate him for it. I want to tell him so.

Instead, what comes out is: “Why?”

He shrugs. I think the conversation is over with that, but then he says: “Because I know what it’s like to lose your mum.”

Right. His mum is dead. Suddenly, I feel stupid about being so sad about my mum. At least she’s still alive. (Probably. If I just hold onto that belief.) But David doesn’t look angry. Or sad. He just looks like he understands. For a moment, it’s like a moment of unspoken solidarity between us. Like we’re the same, in a way. Like we get each other.

And then the moment is over. David turns around and, just like that, he’s all closed off and cold again. I’m almost relieved because finally, he’s the David I know again. This I know how to deal with.

I turn around as well, finally putting away _101 Remedies for a Broken Heart_ and taking up one of our Spell books, to at least try and get some of my homework done.

It’s not uncomfortable, working side by side with David. It’s quite nice, actually. For the first time in weeks, I don’t want to run away. I don’t feel the need to desperately be on my own. I just want to stay here, working on my shit while he is working on his, in silence and peace. (We could have had this for seven years and instead, we spent all that time tearing each other apart.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for chapter two! I hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, giving kudos, commenting (I'll answer them soon!) and just generally being here. I appreciate you all a lot! 
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr at dusuessekartoffel if you want to talk about this or scream about Druck in general. (Binge event tomorrow, whaaaat? Aaaaaaaaaaa!)


	4. Chapter Three: Find Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, last week’s end notes did not age well. I guess we’re all a bit sad and devastated right now and need some time to grieve these characters. At least I know that I do.  
> But I can promise you that this fic is not going anywhere. Look, I’m even updating (almost) on time this week. 
> 
> Chapter Three: Peace, too much breakfast, break-ups, Edmund Spenser and photographs full of questions. 
> 
> This chapter was supposed to be mostly David but then Jonas and Hanna happened, so I’m sorry. Matteo is just infinitely easier to write than David. Probably because all David does is whine and pine without actually doing anything about it. (Relatable, isn’t it?)
> 
> There’s a pitiful amount of magic in this fic so far, but I promise, there will be more in the future. 
> 
> This chapter’s title isn’t a quote (or at least not directly) because consistency who? 
> 
> Random fun fact: Every second time, when I write “Florenzi” from David’s PoV, I accidentally write “Davenzi” at first.

**Chapter Three: Find Yourself**

**David**

I don’t know why I offered to help Florenzi with finding his mum. I felt myself slipping up, last night. I let him see way too much. I don’t think he caught on, though. Florenzi’s obliviousness is my only salvation.

When I saw him in our room, stoned and out of it, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I think that’s why I was nice to him. He seems so beat down lately that I don’t want to beat him down even more. I’m a really bad nemesis.

There’s not much that has changed after our conversation. Florenzi didn’t explain any more to me after our agreement and I didn’t ask any further. We have nowhere to start with looking for his mum, so we don’t. But there’s an implicit truce between us, an agreement not to fight or sabotage each other. Instead of spending all our time avoiding each other, we now sometimes spend time in our room together. Not talking, just both doing our own stuff in silence. Without any worry that one of us will try to stab the other from behind.

So we’ve been living in peace since that night. Well, relative peace. He still complains when I spend too much time in the bathroom in the mornings (what does he think, that I just wake up looking this perfect?) and I still get annoyed at him for leaving his mess everywhere. But there haven’t been any death threats in the past week. No unnecessary fights, no leaving immediately whenever the other shows up in the room, no waking up to my shoelaces spelled together or his blanket glued to his bed. No telling Florenzi how much I hate him so he doesn’t notice that I really, really don’t.

It’s almost nice. I can almost pretend that we’re something akin to friends, that in a different universe where he wasn’t the Chosen One and I wasn’t born into one of the Old Families, we could have been friends. I have to stop my thoughts from going there, though, because then I end up thinking of all the possibilities, of whether maybe, if we’d met without any of our backstories, something more could have become of it. It’s a stupid thought. Florenzi would never fall in love with me, even if I was the nicest human being on the planet. (And I am decidedly not.)

It feels like I have to enjoy every second of this, of spending time in Florenzi’s presence without having to insult him or starting a fight. I want to keep this going for as long as possible, so I have something to remember him by when we’ll inevitably stop being in each other’s lives. (Or, worse, if he has to kill me. I have no doubt he’ll win, once it comes down to our certain confrontation.)

So I’m happy when he decides to start our investigation going. Florenzi and I shortly debated asking the first year who gave me the note for more info on his post but we quickly decided that that wasn’t the way to go about this. I’m convinced he told the truth about not knowing where the letter came from. The only thing we’ve deduced from that is that there must have been a mistake in the distribution of the post.

It was easy enough to figure out who was assigned post duty on that day and, lucky for us, Abdi was among them. But when I asked him about it, he just gave me a confused look and assured me that he didn’t do anything. And then he asked me why we hadn’t plotted anything against Florenzi since the start of the schoolyear. I got him off my back by telling him I wanted to concentrate on school. I think he bought it.

We don’t have much else to go on, except that note by Florenzi’s mother. He thinks I don’t notice but I’ve seen him read it every night before he goes asleep. I know it’s what he keeps holding onto. It’s proof that she’s still out there somewhere.

For a moment, I try to imagine how that would feel. Having a mother who’s alive but not knowing where she is. But I can barely remember my mother as it is and thinking about her always makes me sad, so I give up. I just know I have to help Florenzi find his mother. We can’t both be without one.

**Matteo**

Despite living with each other for almost eight years, David and I have never eaten together. There was one instance in sixth year where we had to sit at the same table in the dining hall because all the others were taken and I was not about to give up dinner because of a stupid feud. We didn’t exchange a single word the entire time but David kept shooting me disgusted looks whenever I got myself another helping.

Now, we’re sitting on the floor of our room and eating breakfast together. David went down to the kitchen earlier and came back with an entire loaf of bread and a stick of butter.

“That’s about the right proportion for you, isn’t it?” he’d said and it hadn’t even sounded like an insult.

Breakfast is my favourite meal of the day. David used to make fun of me for that endlessly. In fifth year, he constantly quoted Oscar Wilde at me. His favourite one was this stupid quote he found way too funny: “Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast.”

At some point, Amira snapped and explained the exact context and meaning of the quote (something about parties and hangovers and _not_ about how breakfast is boring) to David in a ten minute long monologue, so he’d never dare to use it again. He’s been a bit scared of her ever since.

Now, he’s not saying anything of the sort. Just raises his eyebrows when I apply a second layer of butter to my bread. He smirks a little but not even that is in a mean way. I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s never this nice.

I’ve decided that I need to keep my guard up. There’s a very real chance that this is all part of a big plan and he’s plotting to make me feel safe so he can eventually murder me in my sleep. But for now, I’m enjoying the peace. It’s nice, actually, to eat breakfast with David. He eats almost nothing, so I get most of the bread for myself. (I’d feel bad about that but I read in a book once that vampires need less human food. And besides, _I’m_ the one who has to save the World of Mages. I need to have strength for that.)

We spent half of last night debating which spells we could use to try and find out where my mum’s note came from. David was ready to use any tracing spell he could think of but I stopped him. I can’t risk anything happening to the note. Not when it’s the only thing connecting me to my mother. So we made a list of all the spells we could think of and we rated it with how much success we anticipate from them. (David is a big fan of trying to recite a passage from _The Fairie Queene_ , though I think, really, he just wanted to boast about his ability to cast difficult spells. I’m more on the side of trying simple spells first, like **Find Yourself** which is easy to use because it’s such an overused phrase.)

We woke up so late in the morning that breakfast was already over. I tried not to show David just how sad that made me (because I knew he’d make fun of me) but he volunteered to go get us breakfast. It feels like the world is upside down but if I get food out of it, I won’t complain about it.

I’m just chewing on my fifth slice of bread when a very disturbed Jonas suddenly stands in the middle of our room. He doesn’t seem to notice David at first, just looks confused at me eating breakfast in my room. He does shoot me a questioning look when he finally sees David sitting across from me but he doesn’t say anything. I don’t think he truly cares about David. Something is going on with him.

Thankfully, David picks up on the vibes and offers to leave immediately. (“I can’t take any more of Florenzi chewing so loudly anyway.”)

Jonas lets himself fall on the floor next to me as soon as the door clunks shut.

“What happened?” I ask. I’ve never seen him like this. There’s about 300 feelings written on his face all at once.

“Leonie broke up with me. Well, we broke up with each other,” he says after a minute. He looks so defeated.

It’s like an arrow straight through my heart. What wouldn’t I have given to hear that back in sixth year, to hear Jonas say that he was single again. Now, it almost feels like I’m numb to it. I don’t really care, except about the fact that my best friend is clearly heartbroken and I don’t want him to feel that way.

“What happened?” I ask him, as carefully as possible. What happened is their relationship was terrible, we both know that.

Jonas shakes his head. “I don’t know. We were just fighting so much. It wasn’t working anymore. She said she doesn’t love me anymore.”

I don’t know what to say to that so I don’t say anything. Jonas looks like he’s about to cry.

He is silent for a minute before he says: “And I also think I’m in love with someone else.”

Jonas has been my best friend since we were 11 years old. He will never be anything else than my best friend. I don’t _want_ him to be anything else. And yet, I can’t stop my heart from beating so hard in my chest that I’m afraid he can hear it.

I _know_ it’s Hanna. It’s blatantly obvious. It’s always been. I’d known we’d end up at this point ever since Jonas told me that he took Hanna to his cousin’s wedding this summer because Leonie couldn’t come. And then Hanna sent me about seven voice messages on how nice the wedding had been. (Because the bride was so pretty and it was all so lovely and just such a nice event and definitely not because she and Jonas got to play happy couple for a day.)

“You know, don’t you?” he whispers.

I nod. Of course I do. It was in every interaction he had with her since summer. Really, I was only waiting for this moment.

“I don’t know what to do,” Jonas admits. He sounds so small and defeated, not like I know him at all. I try to think of what Amira or Hanna or even Sara would do now. They’re all far better at this than me. But I don’t know what to do, so I just awkwardly pat him on the shoulder. He lets himself fall against me then. We stay like that for a long time.

…

Jonas being sad and heartbroken at least gives me a reason not to hang out with Sara, so I gladly take it. It’s a surprisingly warm day for autumn, so we lie in the grass and watch the clouds. It’s what we used to do when we were younger, whenever one of us was having a hard time. When Jonas’ parents found out about him smoking weed and we were scared they wouldn’t let him return to Watford the next year. When Amira’s older brother went to the continent for a year and she missed him terribly. When my dad left. And again when my mum disappeared.

So it’s fitting to do this now, just the three of us lying on the ground and Jonas talking about how he’s feeling. I’ve gotten good at listening, with those two as my best friends. They’re rarely ever not talking. And with Amira being here, it’s enough if I just give them signals that I’m listening every now and then. She can do the advice part. She does it better than me anyway.

But after an hour of listening to Jonas talk about everything he’ll miss about Leonie (the conversations, the smell of her hair, her face when she’s pretending to be angry at him), he turns to me and asks me the question I’ve been dreading.

“Why the fuck were you and Schreibner even eating breakfast together? You haven’t spent one peaceful day in that room together since you were 11,” he wants to know.

Amira pipes in with, “Yes, I’d love to know that too. You made us have a feud with him for eight years and now you’re suddenly friends?”

“We’re not friends,” I defend myself immediately. It’s true. We’re far from being friends. We’re still enemies. We’ll still fight each other. But something has changed, I can’t deny that.

For some reason, it feels wrong to tell Amira and Jonas about the letter from my mum and that David said he’d help me find her. It almost feels too intimate, which is ridiculous, considering that they’re the ones I usually talk to about how I feel and David is the one who causes those feelings. (Of anger, and resentment, nothing else.)

So I don’t tell them. “We’re working on an assignment together,” I explain.

Amira raises her eyebrows. She does that almost as perfectly as David.

Jonas is the one who voices what I’m sure they’re both thinking. “We didn’t get any partner assignments this semester.”

“It’s for Magickal Computer Sciences.” I can’t believe I’m lying to my two best friends. About David, of all people. (The last time I lied to Amira about David was when I really wanted to prove he’s a vampire in sixth year, despite her telling me to just lay it off. But I still told Jonas. We tried to set him a trap together. Amira saw straight through us and stopped us in the end. It was probably for the best.)

I can tell that neither of them truly believes me now, but they exchange a look I don’t get and drop it. Alright, then. I’m on a truce with David Schreibner and I’m lying to my best friends about it. This is just a normal day in my life, go on, nothing to see here.

**David**

I’ve spent so much time staring at Florenzi that I thought I knew everything there was to know about him. But it turns out I was wrong. It turns out there’s a million little things he’s constantly doing that I’ve never paid attention to before because I never saw him the way I do now.

Like the tiny smile he sometimes gives me now, when we’re both sitting at our desks in silence. A smile that says he’s content like this, before he realises what he’s doing and makes sure to look serious again. Or the way he always has to turn back again to reread the last sentence when turning a page in a book. Or the pattern his hands are drumming out when he’s trying to do his homework, which I’m now realising is always the same.

He’s beautiful like this. He’s so beautiful that it feels like my heart is going to tear at the seams if I keep looking at him. And yet, I can’t help myself. I’m sure he catches me looking every now and then, but he just gives me a slight grin. (I’ve noticed that grin before, but it’s never been directed at me. I’m almost thankful for it, because I don’t know how much more of this I can take.)

It feels like I’m falling for him all over again, except this time it’s worse because I’m actually getting something back. Or maybe it’s better because this way, I at least get to talk to him without having to start a fight first. Either way, it’s excruciating and it feels like the universe’s revenge for how shit I’ve behaved towards Florenzi for the past seven years. (Though, if I do say so, he hasn’t been much better.)

We don’t even spend that much time together. We only really talk about his mum or how to figure out where her note came from. I want to try to cast **For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought** from Edmund Spenser’s _Fairie Queene_ but he won’t let me. He won’t even let me touch the note. Just told me to write down a copy of what it says so he doesn’t have to lend it to me, ever.

We spent all weekend trying to come up with spells we could use to trace the origins of the note, but I’m starting to think it’s useless if Florenzi doesn’t allow me to use any of them. This whole situation is starting to look hopeless. We have barely anything to go on. Even if we do find something, how high are the chances it will lead us anywhere? How high are the chances we’ll find her, realistically speaking?

I’m not about to say that to Florenzi, though. He’d just dismiss me or get angry. He’s so hellbent on finding his mum, he won’t accept anything other than finding a way to get to her. Sometimes, I think he manages to get what he wants through sheer willpower. Except getting his girlfriend to agree with him on what movie they’ll watch later.

I look at the table where Florenzi is sitting with Sara. That’s nothing new. I stare at him way too often. What is new is that when I look to the table next to them, Leonie is staring at the same bickering couple that I’m staring at.

And then she averts her gaze and Sara looks up. When Leonie catches her stare, she looks away and blushes. And then Leonie blushes and Sara stares at her again. It’s like some intricate dance. Suddenly, it’s all starting to make sense. It’s so obvious and it has been in front of my eyes the entire time. I was just too caught up in pining after Florenzi to notice that I’m not the only one pining here.

I catch Leonie right before football practice, as she’s coming out of the girls’ changing room. We’re the only two people on the team who are always ready at least ten minutes before practice. Some days, we talk (one time, Leonie explained the entire concept of invisible spells to me in those ten minutes), and some days, we warm up in silence. Lately, there has been a lot of silence.

But not today.

“How are you?” I ask her.

She looks at me with a look that could kill. “What do you care?” So she’s not in the mood for a talk today. Noted.

“Don’t want you to play bad,” I immediately detain. Then I remember that we’re somewhat friends and I don’t have to pretend not to care about her, so I sigh and rectify, “I know you and Augustin broke up. I just wanted to check in. How are you feeling?”

“Since when do you care about me or Jonas?” She’s really not taking any of my bullshit today. 

“Ouch. I thought we were friends.” I put my hand over my heart in a dramatic gesture, just to get a laugh out of her. I’m rewarded with a tiny smile.

Then she shakes her head. “I don’t really want to talk about it, okay?”

“Okay.” This has already been the most personal we’ve ever gotten.

We sit down on one of the benches at the edge of the football field, in silence again. But for some reason, I can’t keep quiet today. (Is this what Abdi feels like all the time?)

“But does that mean I can hate on Augustin in your presence now?” I smirk.

“So you’ll do what you’ve always done?” she raises her eyebrows. But there’s a grin on her face. 

“Yes.”

Leonie laughs. She seems freer than she has in a while. Happier, despite just having broken up with her boyfriend of two years. I’m curious about that, about why she broke up with him and why she was looking at Sara that way, but I don’t ask. Florenzi would be blunt and ask but I have too much dignity to do that.

Instead, I get up and hold out my hand to her. It’s become our little ritual, me offering to help her up and her either accepting or denying. Her reaction is always a surprise. Today, she takes my hand. We run a few laps around the field before the rest of our teammates show up and we can start with practice. Leonie, like me, gets fiercer on the field when she’s trying to get a break from her thoughts. I’ve rarely seen her play how she plays today. It’s like she’s directing all her energy towards football. It’s beautiful and slightly scary to watch. I wonder if that’s how anyone feels about me.

…

I’ve never really drawn in Florenzi’s presence before. Doodled a little, sure, but not full on drawn where he could see what I was working on. I don’t know why today is different. Because talking to Leonie like we were friends made me happy or because all of last week has been so different already. Or because we’ll see each other for not even a year before never talking to each other again, so I’ve stopped caring so much. (Maybe I’ve just given up. Or I’ve started to have a tiny bit of hope again.)

I don’t know what he’s doing on his side of the room but we work in relative quiet (apart from the occasional book or pen that Florenzi lets fall to the floor). It takes a surprising amount of time for Florenzi to get restless and start moving around the room. He changes position from his desk to his bed at first. Then he goes to look out of the window, but slides down along the wall quickly until he sits on the floor. I can feel him staring at me but I don’t give him the satisfaction of turning around.

It only takes him a minute to ask, “What are you drawing?”

“None of your business,” I reply. It’s just a random drawing of a tree. I’d never work on anything personal in front of Florenzi.

But of course he gets up and comes over. I try not to let him see that I’m really nervous about his judgment. I just keep working on one of the branches.

Florenzi stays quiet for an excruciating amount of time, just staring at the piece of paper in front of me. I almost think he’ll just go back to his bed without any comment, when he finally does say something.

“It’s really good.” He’s never complimented me before. Or I’ve never let him, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever really shown him one of my drawings.

I don’t know how to react, so I don’t. Just keep on drawing. I swear I can hear Florenzi utter a very soft “arsehole” under his breath. I ignore him and focus on my tree.

That works fine, until I come out of the bathroom after peeing in the exact moment Florenzi lets one of his books fall to the floor.

A photograph flutters out of the book, right in front of me. I stoop down to pick it up without thinking much about it but when I throw a quick look at the picture, it’s like everything freezes. The photograph shows three teenage girls at Watford and it must have been taken at least 20 years ago, judging by the clothes they’re wearing. They’re all hugging and laughing, looking so happy and carefree.

But it’s the girl on the left that makes my heart stop. I haven’t seen that face in 14 years.

**Matteo**

“What is that?” David asks. There’s something in his voice that I can’t decipher. It’s full of feeling. But David doesn’t have a lot of feelings, at least none that he shows me. When I don’t immediately answer, he repeats, “What is that?”

“A picture of my mum,” I answer. I have no idea why he’s making such a fuss about this. It’s just a photograph of her at school, next to some of her friends. I keep it in one of my books and sometimes look at it when I miss her too much but there’s hardly anything weird about that, right?

He stares at me, not saying anything. He’s still clutching the photograph in his hands, so strongly that I’m scared he’ll crumble it. 

“What is so weird about me having a picture of my mum?” I finally ask.

He shakes his head, opens his mouth but no sound comes out. Then he clears his throat and tries again, his voice quieter than I’m used to: “That’s _my_ mother.”

For a moment, I think it’s some sick joke of the universe. That we’re in some stupid teenage movie and we’ll find out we’re related through a stupid photograph. Then I realise that he’s not pointing at my mum but at the girl standing next to her.

“It can’t be,” I say immediately. Why would David’s mum of all people be standing next to my mum?

“Well, I’m telling you it is.” David keeps blinking and it takes me a moment to realise that it’s because he’s trying not to cry. 

“You’re sure?” It can’t be. It just can’t.

But David, who’s always so serious and certain he’s right, has never sounded more certain than right now: “I think I recognise my own mother, Florenzi.”

He shakes his head again and gives me back the photograph before turning around and all but fleeing our room. I look down at the picture and, for the first time, I look at the girl standing to my mum’s left. Her hair is as dark and curly as David’s, her skin slightly darker (vampire skin, I remind myself), her smile so bright I’m sure it could light up any room. She looks so nice and pretty. Not at all how I imagined David’s mother to look.

Then, there’s my mother and on her other side, another girl, this one blonde and with a weirdly familiar look on her face. It takes me a while before I realise that she reminds me of Sara. With the way the universe has been playing lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was Sara’s mother. Which reminds me of the most important thing about this.

I’ve had a picture of David’s mother in my drawer all these years. I almost want to laugh at the absurdity but then I remember what this means. It means they went to school together. More than that, it means they were friends. My mother and David’s mother were friends. It doesn’t make sense. It’s like I have all the puzzle pieces but I can’t make them click in my head. This just can’t be true.

But the undeniable truth is that my mother and David Schreibner’s mother knew each other and now they’re both gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there goes chapter 3! I actually really like the ending to this one. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. 
> 
> Who wants to place bets on when chapter 4 is going to be uploaded? (Viable options: next Thursday before midnight, next Friday just after midnight or next Friday morning. Not viable options: any earlier on Thursday.)


	5. Chapter Four: I Don't Mind Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I’m very sorry for the delay! My mind is a bit all over the place and for some reason, this chapter was really hard to write? Maybe because it has actual dialogue in it and I’m bad at that, whoops.
> 
> Anyway, here’s Chapter Four: Tracing spells, forests, secrets, parties and Christmas plans. 
> 
> The title is from the song “Smoke” by Violette Wautier, part of the David playlist. 
> 
> What is time? I don’t know but what I do know is that this does not have a coherent timeline. Anyway, it’s December now! I guess autumn went wherever March did. 
> 
> But hey, there’s some actual magic in this! Yes, that’s right, I finally remembered that Matteo and David are magicians in this fic. Amazing, isn’t it? And, you won’t believe it, there’s also more David PoV? And he talks about something other than his love for Matteo? Whaaaat??
> 
> Every chapter, I curse myself that I made David play football because not only do I hate it, I also have next to zero knowledge about it. If anything I write is terribly inaccurate, please feel free to tell me! 
> 
> Lastly, they go to the bathroom all the time in this? I think it’s because I had to pee while writing. 10/10 would recommend peeing before you settle down to write and get comfortable.

**Chapter Four: I Don’t Mind Now**

**David**

Florenzi and I didn’t talk about that picture of our mothers. But when I returned from the bathroom later that night, the photograph was lying on my bed. Florenzi was right there in the room with me but he didn’t say anything and so I didn’t ask. I just took the photograph and put it into my edition of _Dorian Gray_.

He finally let me try a tracing spell the next day. Of course **Find Yourself** didn’t work. (It’s a shit spell, if you ask me, because it’s based on an expression that, while used often, doesn’t have much depth.) He let me try Spenser eventually but that didn’t work either. Neither did **Find What You’re Looking For** or **Lost and Found**. Or any of the million other spells we tried.

Now he’s looking at me with wide-open eyes and waiting for me to try the next spell. We settled on **Whereforth Art Thou** and of course I’m the one who has to cast it. Florenzi hasn’t moved a single finger yet. (He says it’s because he’s lazy. Really, I think it’s because he’s afraid of fucking up the spell and doing something to the note. He’s clinging to that piece of paper like his life depends on it.)

I’m not a big fan of the spell. It’s a difficult one because you have to get both the pronunciation right and be aware of how it’s misunderstood most of time. I don’t have much faith in it. The actual meaning of it doesn’t even have anything to do with where something is. The spell is just built on a wrong translation.

Florenzi has been staring at me for the last five minutes so I huff: “Don’t distract me. You want this to work, right?”

He rolls his eyes but he looks away and moves a bit to the right to give me my space.

I focus on the note. It’s a tad crinkled around the edges. A little worn. It feels like there’s more love in this little scrap of paper than in my entire life so far. (That’s a stupid thought and a distracting thought. It’s all this time I spend with Florenzi that’s making me have sentimental thoughts like this.) I try to shake it off. Concentration, David.

I can feel the magic flowing through my veins. It’s always there, sleeping, ready for when I need it. I concentrate and let it pool, somewhere behind my belly button. I imagine it, like it’s a physical thing, something that’s actually there. It’s like the opposite of blood. I need them both to survive but where drinking blood makes me feel like a monster, using magic makes me feel like I’m whole.

In my head, using magic is like football. It’s like I start running, getting faster and faster, and then I reach the ball and kick. Except I do it with a wand.

“ **Whereforth Art Thou!** ” I put all the magic I can find into it, making sure to pronounce every syllable correctly.

To my surprise, the paper starts glowing. It’s only faint at first, but it starts to get stronger, pulsating like it’s trying to guide us somewhere. And then, the room vanishes.

**Matteo**

He actually did it. The spell worked. One second ago, we were sitting on the floor in our room. Now, we’re surrounded by trees. There’s a little hut not far away, smoke curling out of the chimney. It looks like somewhere you’d go to buy drugs.

I’ve never seen it in my life before. But it has to be where my mum is. The spell worked and that means that that hut is where her letter came from. Which means my mum is only a few yards away from me. Before I can stop myself, I start running towards the hut.

“Florenzi!” I can hear David shout behind me. “It’s an illusion!”

I ignore him. I just keep running towards the hut which never seems to come any closer. It’s way farther away than I thought it was. Or maybe I’m just too slow.

“Florenzi!” David is screaming now. “Matteo!”

I can hear his screams get louder but that doesn’t stop me from running either. Until I can feel someone crash into me just before we both tumble to the ground.

When I open my eyes, all I can see is the foot of David’s bed. (It has to be David’s because it looks all neat and perfect and there’s no dust underneath it. There’s a ton of dust under mine. He only ever hoovers his side of the room, the git.)

The forest is gone but David is still lying on top of me, pinning me to the ground. He scrambles off as soon as he realises what he’s doing. I just keep lying on the floor.

“What was that, Florenzi?” David wants to know angrily, as soon as he’s brushed (non-existent) dirt from his clothes.

I shrug. What _was_ that? I saw the place where my mother is and I wanted to go there. Isn’t that a normal reaction?

David shakes his head at me. “That was an illusion, Florenzi. Magic. You know, the thing we’re here to learn how to do? The thing that determines our whole lives?”

He can never just be nice. Of course he can’t. Sometimes I forget that he’s the biggest arsehole I’ve ever met. But he never fails to remind me.

I decide to ignore him. “We need to go there!”  
“Sure. If you’re organising us tickets to Scarborough and explain to the Mage why we have to take a day off school.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm.

“Scarborough?” I have no idea what he’s talking about. We need to get to the forest. Nothing else matters.

“Didn’t you read the sign?” David asks. When I shake my head, he explains: “It said _Scarborough_. And what forest is near Scarborough?”

I look at him to continue. How should I know? It’s not like we’re taught geography at Watford. Or like I ever paid attention to it in Normal school.

“Dalby forest,” David explains as if it’s the most obvious answer. As if I’m really, really stupid for not knowing that. I probably am.

But it doesn’t matter because I know with certainty that I’ve heard that name before.

“I’ve been there!” I exclaim. I remember now. “I’ve been there with my mum.”

David looks at me with wide eyes. “So she’s there? We actually found her?”

“Did you doubt your own magickal abilities?” I tease. We both know he would never doubt himself.

“No, but I doubted that weird spell. I can’t believe that one worked and Spenser didn’t!” So he’s angry that the spell that worked was one that I suggested.

“Doesn’t matter now,” I cut him off. “We found something, that’s all that counts. I can’t believe the spell worked!”

“Well, it wasn’t an easy one. It took a lot of concentration,” David starts to brag. I just poke my tongue out at him. He even gives me a small laugh.

“Okay, so when do we leave?” I ask. I’m ready to up and go right now. We _have_ to go.

“We can’t just leave school and fuck off to who-knows-where in Yorkshire,” David protests.

“Swotter,” I accuse him.

“I’m not,” he protests. “I just take school seriously. Maybe you should too.”

“You’re not my mum. Who, by the way, we should look for.” I can’t believe he’s just saying No.

“Why don’t you go on your own?” David asks.

Yeah, why don’t I? Because I can’t rely on my magic and who knows what’s in that forest. Because it’s unwise to travel through half of England on my own, without anyone there to help me if I encounter the Humdrum or any other monsters. Because if I’m honest, I’m really scared of finding my mum.

“Because you’re better at magic than I am,” is what I tell David. I know he’ll be satisfied to hear me say that.

David just looks at me for a minute, so I add: “And because you promised to help.”

There’s something shifting in his face. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll go with you. But I won’t sacrifice school for it.”

“We can go during Christmas break,” I suggest. I hate the idea of having to wait even more until I can see my mum, now that we have an idea of where she is, but I can’t do this alone. “It’s not that far until then.”

David looks like he wants nothing less than to spend any part of his Christmas break with me.

“Look, I can imagine nicer stuff than rooting through a forest in December as well but it will only take us a day. You promised to help me with this!” I repeat. He _promised_. You don’t break a promise.

He sighs. “Fine. We can go then. But I choose the day.”

I nod immediately. Knowing him, he’ll choose the last day of break, but it’s fine. We’ll find her. We finally have a plan.

…

The next weeks are torture. I try to divert my thoughts by concentrating on school. Not that that’s a very successful endeavour. But it makes Amira happy, me asking her for help and trying to keep up in class instead of staring out of the window. And it makes Jonas happy that I smoke less weed before class now because that means there’s more left for him on the weekends. (That’s what he says, anyway. I think what he really means is that he’s glad I’m not smoking as much.)

I make sure to hide it from David but I’m counting down the days to Christmas. I made myself a calendar where I can cross off the days. It feels like time is not moving forward at all. It’s excruciating. I try to plan for every possible scenario but I’m not very good at planning and David is annoyingly calm about the whole thing.

When the final football match of the trimester arrives, I’m so giddy all day that both Amira and Sara ask me what’s wrong. I don’t even know where all my excitement comes from. The fact that it’s only three more days until Christmas break. The fact that I get to see David (the entire team) play football again. Or maybe the general excitement that comes with a football match has just infected me. Either way, I can barely concentrate on anything during the last lesson of the day.

As soon as the lesson ends, Amira, Jonas and I make our way to the stands. We’re among the first students there so we wait for a few minutes before we’re gradually joined by Hanna and Mia, then Sara and then Kiki and Sam who carry an entire bucket of popcorn with them. I mostly clink out of the big, confusing conversation that the others are holding but I can hear Amira and Mia discuss theories for how the game is going to go while Jonas and Sam are trying to catch popcorn with their mouths.

Sara is uncharacteristically quiet today though. Things have been icy between her and Hanna ever since Jonas and Hanna started dating but she usually at least gets along well with Kiki and Sam. Today, she’s not talking to either of them. Just anxiously staring at the empty field. I can feel her tense up next to me when the team comes out of their changing rooms. Before I can feel bad about not asking her what’s wrong, to my great relief the whistle rings and the game begins.

I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than David on the football field. It’s like he’s in total control. Like every one of his movements is calculated and executed perfectly. I can never take my eyes off him when he’s on the field. I can’t focus on anything else.

The little voice at the back of my mind is making itself noticeable, saying that maybe I spend too much time thinking about David but I drown it out. So what if I think David is the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen? That doesn’t mean I’m in love with him. (Leonie is. I’m pretty sure. She’s always looking at him and stuff. And then Sara is looking at Leonie. I think she’s almost as angry as I am. For different reasons though. She just thinks David is going to corrupt Leonie.) 

My thoughts are drowned out in a loud cheer when David shoots a goal for our team. And then another one, not even ten minutes later. When the game is finished and he’s secured victory for Watford, he’s carried off the field on his teammates’ shoulders. He’ll be unbearable tonight.

**David**

Florenzi has become unbearable since we discovered that hut in the woods. He wanted to go and look for it right then. But I can’t suspend school for some mystery that we might not even end up solving. Who knows if the spell even worked properly? Who knows what we’ll find if we actually make it to Dalby forest?

Going during Christmas break not only gives us time to prepare ourselves for whatever we may encounter, it also gives _me_ time to prepare. For the four hour train journey to Scarborough and back that I have to spend with Florenzi. For spending time with him, all alone, without the protection of Watford around me. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that.

We’ve decided to go just after Christmas, to leave room for any unpredictable events that might prolong our journey. I was very adamant about wanting to be back at Watford for the start of the new trimester and Florenzi agreed to everything I said. I think he’s thrown a bit off track, ever since that spell. He was out of it as soon as he saw the hut, running towards it. Who knows what would have happened if I didn’t stop him?

I try not to think about that moment, about how touching him felt. I’ve tried not to think about it for weeks now. I’ve tried to put it where all the other nice memories of Florenzi are. Like when he accidentally brushed my arm in fifth year and I could feel the exact spot where he’d touched me burning for the rest of the day. Or when I was ill last year and he brought me soup only to then pretend he didn’t. Or the day we first met, when we didn’t hate each other yet and he smiled at me with his too wide smile and his bright blue eyes and it felt like my heart was melting.

I’m saving them. I don’t know for what exactly. Maybe for when I won’t see him again and all I’ll have to go by will be memories. Or maybe for the apocalypse. For when everything comes tumbling down and the world will open up and swallow me whole because it’s finally realised that I’m a monster.

If touching him accidentally already makes me feel like that, I don’t want to think about what might happen if we spend an entire day together, away from Watford and with no opportunity to run away if things get too much. I’m dreading Christmas break with every day that brings me closer to it while Florenzi can barely wait for break to arrive. 

He even made himself a little calendar to count down to Christmas. He thinks he can hide it from me but I noticed from the first day he made it. I’ll leave him the illusion that I don’t know anything. It’s heartbreaking, how much he’s anticipating Christmas. I just hope he finds what he’s looking for. _We_ , I correct myself. I hope _we_ find what he’s looking for. (It’s still weird to think of us as a We and not me vs. him. I don’t think it will ever not be weird.)

…

The last evening before Christmas break starts, Carlos is dragging Abdi and me to a Christmas party that Kiki and her friends are organising. Or rather, he’s dragging me. Abdi was more than happy to go as soon as he heard that Sam was going to be there.

I have to hide my admiration when we reach Hanna and Mia’s room. There’s at least 20 people in there and yet it doesn’t seem cramped. They must have spelled it bigger somehow which is not an easy spell to achieve. I always knew Mia was one of the most talented magicians in our year. I just didn’t know she was this talented.

We find ourselves some beer and an unoccupied corner and settle down there. I hate parties. It’s too many people and too little control. And the music they play is always shit. I can’t even eat anything because I’m too scared of my fangs popping accidentally.

“Hey, love.” Kiki has made her way over to us and I can hear her kiss Carlos. (Disgusting.) They’ve been dating for two years now. Sometimes, they’re unbearable. They’re so in love it’s gross. (Abdi says I only think that because I’m lonely and jealous but I’ve caught him rolling his eyes at them more than once too.)

“How are you guys?” Kiki asks us. She’s always trying to be nice to Abdi and me. I try to appreciate it but really, I’d prefer to not have to pretend to be nice to her all the time.

“Christmas break is here, hello? I’ve never been better!” Abdi says with a grin. He’s been desperate for break ever since the start of November.

“I know, I’m so happy we finally get a break! The last year really is the hardest, don’t you think?” Kiki is talking so fast that I barely understand what she’s saying.

“Totally, babe!” I think that’s the worst part of their relationship. Carlos and Kiki calling each other “babe”. I wish I’d never have to hear it again.

“I hate last year,” Abdi starts complaining. “It’s so much stress and pressure and at the end of it, we’ll have to say goodbye to Watford and to each other.”

“Don’t say that, mate!” Carlos is holding his hand over his heart dramatically now. “We’ll be friends for the rest of our lives. Right, David?”

“Yeah, of course.” It’s so easy to lie to them. In reality, I know we won’t be friends for long after school. Not when the war finally arrives. They’re both way too nice to fight on my side. And I’m way too obliged to my family not to fight.

“How are you, David?” Kiki asks now. She means it well, I remind myself. She’s just trying to be nice.

“Good, thanks.” I can feel Carlos hitting me in the shoulder because he’s not happy with my short answer. But Kiki doesn’t even seem to care.

“So, what are your plans for Christmas?” I’m almost amazed at how she never runs out of conversation topics. She’d probably ask us about our favourite colours if nothing else came up.

“Eating all the food,” Abdi sighs happily. He hasn’t shut up about how much he’s looking forward to all the nice food he’ll get to eat at his family’s home. Especially now that his sister has finished her training as a cook.

“Celebrating with you,” Carlos answers and kisses Kiki. She smiles at him. Gross.

“And you, David?” If there’s one thing to be said about Kiki, it’s that she never relents. And maybe that she can’t take a hint. 

“I’m just spending the holidays with my sister in London.” I don’t have any grand plans. Spend some time with Laura, play some board games, cook together. Her new girlfriend is visiting us for a few days with some of her friends because Laura thought it’d be a nice idea to have some people around the flat. And of course I’ll do some mystery solving with Florenzi that I can’t tell anyone about. Not that I really want to discuss my Christmas break plans with Carlos’ girlfriend.

Thankfully, the door to the room bursts open with a loud “whoop!” before Kiki can ask any more about my plans. And of course, the two people I most wanted to see enter: Florenzi and his biggest follower, Augustin.

Great. This is just what I needed. Spending another evening with Florenzi. I’m sure he’s one of those annoying people at parties. Smoking and turning the music on too loud. He proves me right when the first thing he does as soon as he’s said hello to everyone is take out a joint.

“Nice!” Augustin exclaims and whistles. I can see Mahmood roll her eyes already and she hasn’t even exchanged a word with the boys yet.

“Please don’t smoke in the room,” Mia immediately says. I can’t hide a little smirk.

“What?” Carlos complains while Abdi quickly hides the joint he was about to roll himself. They’re dumbasses, all of them. Apparently, I have a thing for dumbasses, with my two best friends and my stupid feelings for Florenzi. I really wish I didn’t.

What a lot of people don’t realise about Florenzi is that he can be the biggest little shit. He’s not putting away his joint, just shoots Mia an annoyed look and puts it behind his ear. And then he grabs a beer and plants himself on the floor. It only takes him and Augustin a few minutes to secretly try and light the joint they brought.

“At least use a smell neutrality spell, please,” Mia begs them when she notices immediately.

“Alright, alright.” Augustin puts his hands up defensively. But he gets out his guitar string (such a stupid magickal object) and mutters **Smells Like Teen Spirit**. Not the spell I would have chosen but he does it perfectly and no smell from the joint reaches us anymore.

I can see Abdi and Carlos exchange a look and I know exactly what they’re planning on doing. Brilliant. So I’ve not only lost all my sanity and Christmas break plans to Florenzi, I’m also about to lose my best friends.

**Matteo**

When Hanna invited us to her Christmas party, I didn’t expect to find David there, of all people. The room was already filled with people when we arrived. All the girls were there, of course, but, to my great surprise, David and his boys were also huddled in one corner. It took me a moment to remember that Carlos is dating Kiki, which is probably why he’s here. He must have brought David and Abdi.

I don’t actually know Carlos and Abdi that well. They always just do whatever David tells them to do. When we started Watford, the three of them were constantly playing pranks on me. Jonas and I played them pranks back. In hindsight, I have to admit that some of the pranks were really funny. Like the one time they spelled one of the rats to follow us around all day long and sing Beatles songs. Or the time they pretended to confuse us and always addressed us by the wrong name to the point where even the teachers were confused. They were good pranks. Really, Abdi and Carlos seem like they’re alright. They’re just friends with the wrong guy.

But now, they’re coming over and looking at us sheepishly. I have no idea what they want.

“What do you want?” Jonas asks them, a little confusion in his voice. We’re not exactly friends with them. Neither of us has even properly talked to them since we stopped pranking each other in fifth year.

“Well …,” Abdi starts.

“Can we get in on the joint?” Carlos gets a little stab in the side from Abdi for that but Jonas just laughs.

“Sure, here.” He holds it out to them as if they’ve always been best friends. So he’s fraternising with the enemy too now.

“What?” he shrugs when he sees my look. “We’re not kids anymore. We don’t have to continue this childish feud. And who would I be if I didn’t share?”

I sigh but decide to drop it when Carlos and Abdi settle down next to us. They actually seem pretty chill. Like they just want to smoke a little weed with us and have a good time. Not like they’re evil at all.

David is pissed though. His look is all sour as he’s talking to Kiki about who knows what. I can tell even from here that he doesn’t like talking to her. And I don’t blame him, truly. Kiki is nice but she can be so annoying. She talks too much.

I’ve not paid attention to the conversation that’s ensued between Abdi, Carlos and Jonas but I think they’re talking about the last football game. At least I hear the words “goal” and “win” mentioned a few times. I’m just trying to start paying attention when someone on my left starts talking.

“Hey, Matteo, did you miss me?” I barely hear Sara before she’s tumbling against me. She smells like alcohol and she’s only just gotten here.

“What’s going on?” I ask her.

“What? Nothing! I’m just having a good time!” She laughs but it sounds forced, like she doesn’t want to laugh at all.

“You’re drunk,” I tell her.

“You’re high,” she retaliates. She has a point there.

“Whatever,” I answer her. I don’t have time to deal with Sara’s shit right now. (Even if it makes me a really, really terrible boyfriend.)

She’s trying to pull me up to dance now but I’m refusing. I’m not in the mood for dancing. I’m never in the mood for dancing. Especially with Sara.

Something is off though. I am certain of that. Sara is acting all kinds of weird. She’s been acting weird for weeks now.

“Come, Sara, we’ll go,” I hear Leonie say. She’s showed up out of nowhere, trying to drag Sara away from me and towards the door. Finally, she succeeds and Sara pokes her tongue out at me before swivelling around so fast she almost tumbles down.

“Dickhead!” Leonie scoffs at me before she turns her back to me and guides Sara out of the door.

“What was that?” Abdi wants to know. When I turn around, I see all three of them look at me with curiosity.

“I don’t know,” I reply truthfully. I don’t get Sara. I never did.

“Don’t you think you should check on her?” Jonas suggests carefully.

I shrug but I do get up eventually and wave goodbye to Hanna and Mia before leaving the room as well. I don’t go to Sara’s room though. Instead, I just go to my own room and lie down on my bed. I’m not in the mood for parties right now anyway. I just want tomorrow to arrive so I can go home to Hans and Linn and start looking for my mum.

…

I must have fallen asleep before David got home because when I open my eyes, it’s already morning and the bathroom is occupied. Depending on when David got up, it’ll take anything between five and thirty minutes for him to come out again.

I decide that I don’t have the patience for that and get up to hammer against the door.

“I need a wee!” I shout through the door. “Your hair routine can wait!”

There’s no reply from David. Of course there isn’t. But I hear the shower turn on a few seconds later. Arsehole.

He finally lets me use the bathroom after about twenty minutes. I don’t even have the time to make an angry comment, I need to wee that badly. When I come out of the bathroom, David is already in the middle of packing his things.

“What are you doing for Christmas anyway?” I ask him. (Which is really fucking nice of me, considering that he almost made me piss myself.) Not that I care about David’s Christmas plans. I’m just curious how evil vampires spend their holidays.

“Oh, my sister wants to spend Christmas with her girlfriend and apparently she’s bringing some friends? I haven’t spent Christmas with someone other than my sister since I was a child,” David sighs. He doesn’t seem too happy about having people visit for Christmas.

Then he grins at me: “What are you doing for Christmas? Beating up some goblins?”

“Oh, piss off,” I answer. It’s not too serious though. I can tell when he’s joking now. (At least most of the time.) “I’m spending Christmas with my flatmates. One of them has a new girlfriend, so we’re visiting her and her brother.”

David freezes up. “How many flatmates do you have?” he asks quietly.

“Three.” David’s eyes widen. And then I catch on. But it can’t be. It really, really can’t.

“Your flatmate doesn’t happen to be called Linn, does she?” David wants to know.

I don’t give him an answer, just stare at him blankly. I’m pretty sure that’s answer enough because David’s face closes up immediately. The nice conversational feeling from before is gone and all that is left is anger.

I don’t know how to react. The last thing I expected when I woke up today was to find out that I’d be spending Christmas with David. I can’t spend Christmas with David. I can’t. I can’t spend three whole days with him and his definitely also evil sister. I can’t even decide whether Hans and Linn being there makes it worse or not.

But Hans and Linn don’t matter right now. This is terrible. This is the worst thing that could possibly have happened. I was prepared for one day of looking for my mum with David. I wasn’t prepared for spending several days with him and his sister, all cuddled up and cozy in their home. It’s way too intimate. This is going to be the worst Christmas of my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! The next chapter is a Christmas chapter! Yes, in April. Who cares? 
> 
> Let's hope the next one will be out a bit sooner. Anyone want to take bets again? (I'm sorry you all lost, but I love you and thanks for sticking with this fic and my terrible schedule!)


	6. Chapter Five: All The Things We Could Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. This is late. But hey, it’s the longest chapter yet! And, surprise, it’s Christmas! Just ignore that we almost have summer and pretend it’s winter. (I feel like I have to mention that, while I made British Christmas pudding sound nice in here, it’s actually disgusting.)
> 
> I know the fandom loves headcanoning David and Laura as Jewish and I love that headcanon but I don’t know nearly enough about Judaism and didn’t really have the time to do proper research, so they’re celebrating Christmas (the commercial way) here. 
> 
> The title of this chapter is from Talk by Hozier, part of David’s playlist and just a beautiful song in general. 
> 
> Lastly, I loved writing this chapter but it also drove me absolutely crazy because it took too much time and, more importantly, it took too much time away from the things I was supposed to be doing. Chapter 6 is halfway done so I’ll try and get it done around Thursday but I’ll put this fic on a bit of a slower schedule after that and try to post every second Thursday. Sorry about that. 
> 
> But now, Chapter Five: Dysfunctional families, coming out, Christmas presents, long lost letters and almosts.

**Chapter Five: All The Things We Could Do**

**Matteo**

Christmas used to be my favourite time of the year. It used to be filled with so much joy and anticipation when I was a child. Everyone around me somehow seemed happy and content. I loved nothing more.

Christmas with Hans, Linn and Mia is not the same. It’s nice, sure, and Hans always goes over the top with whatever Christmas meal he’s decided to try out, but the mood is usually a bit dulled. We never talk about it but we all miss our families at Christmas.

I didn’t expect this year to be any different. I thought we’d go visit Linn’s girlfriend and have a nice enough Christmas dinner and listen to some music and exchange some presents and then go home again and all vanish into our own rooms. Except Linn’s girlfriend is David’s sister and so I’ll get to spend Christmas with the last person I ever want to. This tops even the Christmas I spent in the care home when I was 14.

The worst thing about this is that I’ve had all of three days to prepare. And then Linn told us that Laura is expecting us to stay over for at least two entire days. And of course I don’t have a present for either Laura or David and Hans won’t let me participate in his present because I did that with the presents for Linn and Mia last year. And the year before that.

Really, this is the worst possible thing that could have happened. I’m so pissed when we’re driving to Laura and David’s place that I’m ignoring all Linn’s attempts to sing Christmas songs with us. My mood doesn’t even lighten when we stop at a Greggs for some sausages rolls.

“Come on, Matteo, it won’t be that bad! You can just ignore David if he bothers you,” Hans tries to make me see the positive. It’s all he’s been trying to do since I came home from school.

“You don’t know David,” I try to explain. “He’s evil. Like, properly evil. I can’t just ignore him! He’ll set me on fire or something.”

Mia rolls her eyes at me. “He’s exaggerating. David is a bit arrogant if anything but he’s not evil. Matteo’s just prejudiced against the Old Families.”

“Well, I can’t blame him for that,” Hans answers. “They _are_ very conservative.”

“Laura’s a lesbian and she’s Old Family too,” Linn says.

Mia looks at her curiously. “How did you two even meet? You still haven’t told us.”

“I went to one of those workshops, _Magickal Futures_ or something. Where they help you find a career. And Laura was there too. We talked there and then she asked me out and we went on a date and …” Linn gets a dreamy look in her eyes. “She’s just perfect. She’s really funny and she loves plants and I just like her _so_ much.”

I’ve never heard Linn talk like that. She’s truly in love. I’m slightly worried about it, about Linn dating someone like _Laura Schreibner_. She has to be a powerful magician, judging by her brother and their heritage. And she’s probably evil too. Aren’t they all?

But Mia and Hans don’t seem to be worried at all. They’re all giggly and happy and asking Linn a million more questions about Laura. I have to admit, it’s sweet how happy Linn is. She’s looking forward to spending time with Laura and us so much. At least one of us is.

Still, the rest of the drive is much nicer, with Mia joining in on Linn’s singing and Hans asking questions about every little detail of Linn and Laura’s relationship. I’m still pissed I have to spend Christmas with David but I can’t deny that the general mood is cheering me up.

We stop in front of a normal, boring house. Sure, it’s fairly central and the flat is probably nice but I expected something more … posh. Like a big house with a garden or a villa or something. Instead, Hans rings one of the six bells on the outside of the house. A moment later, the door opens.

David and Laura live in the top flat. When we’ve finally climbed all the stairs (there’s far too many), a smiling young woman greets us at the open door. She’s wearing a Christmas jumper and she looks really nice. Way too nice to be David’s sister.

I’ve never seen Linn as excited as now, throwing her arms around Laura and kissing her. It’s adorable, how happy she is. Laura smiles at her widely, in a way that convinces me she’s just as in love with Linn as Linn is with her. Then, she turns around to us.

“Welcome! I’m Laura.” She’s still smiling. Who knew someone related to David could smile this much?

Hans ignores her outstretched hand and pulls her into a hug. “I’m Hans, it’s so nice to meet you! Linn wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“Oh, I think David would say the same about me talking about Linn,” Laura laughs while Linn gives Hans a slightly affronted look. “Speaking of him, he should be here too.” She turns around and shouts, “David! Our guests are here!”

Mia and I are just done shaking Laura’s hand and introducing ourselves when David appears behind her. He’s being all polite and nice to Hans and Linn and friendly enough to Mia but I barely register what they’re saying. I can’t stop staring at him.

“David, you’re … you’re wearing sweatpants.” I don’t know what I expected. No sensible person wears suits or even jeans around their home. Of course David isn’t doing that either. It’s just that, seeing him like this, like a normal human being, still throws me off. I’m so used to him being some distant, unreachable entity. He’s always composed and put together and perfect. Sweatpants-wearing-David doesn’t fit with the David in my head.

“Yeah? That’s what people do at home?” He tilts his head and grins a little, like he doesn’t quite get what my problem is. I don’t quite get what my problem is either. It’s just weird, seeing him like this. It makes me want to be friends with him.

“Well, you look stupid.” _Well done, Matteo. You really just managed to insult him the moment you entered his home. This will certainly make celebrating Christmas with him better._

David’s friendliness is all gone now and he gives me one of his icy looks. I can see Mia roll her eyes at us. She thinks our rivalry is stupid. She never fails to tell me so every summer. But Mia just doesn’t get it.

Laura doesn’t either because I can see her smirk a little when she says, “Come in.”

I was right. The flat is incredibly nice. It has a brilliant view over London and the rooms are all light and big. There are plants everywhere, some magickal and some Normal. It feels like it’s truly lived in, like it’s a home. And also like they’re rich.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have that much space and only one guest room,” Laura explains apologetically.

I don’t want to see Laura in our flat if she thinks this is not much space. We can only dream of having a proper living room, let alone a guest room.

“So, obviously Linn is staying with me and I thought that Mia and Hans could share the guest room and Matteo can sleep in David’s room since you two are used to that anyway.” She’s so nice. She’s too nice. I can’t say no if she explains the situation so nicely. (I’m not sure it’s not an evil masterplan by her and David so David can attack me when we’re alone and get rid of me once and for all.)

But David doesn’t look delighted either. He wrinkles his nose and says, “I hope you don’t snore, Florenzi.”

“We both know you’re the one who snores,” I counter. I wish it was true. I wish there was just one thing, one tiny detail, that made David less perfect than he is. Just so it would be more bearable to be in his presence.

He ignores me and says, “Come, I’ll show you the room.”

David’s room is completely different from anything I’d have ever expected and yet it fits him perfectly. It’s filled with light and warmth. It’s weirdly comfortable, in a way I can’t quite grasp. (Maybe I just expected him to sleep in a coffin instead of a normal, nice bed.) The walls are full of drawings. He probably did them all himself. I don’t like to admit it but David is crazy talented when it comes to drawing. Everything he creates is beautiful. There’s all kinds of drawings on the walls, of places and football players and sometimes even faces. He has pictures of Laura, Abdi and Carlos on the wall, and then some of people I don’t recognise.

“You can put your stuff in that drawer over there,” David says. It almost sounds nice.

I nod and start to unpack. I haven’t brought much. The Christmas jumper Hans gave me last year, some clean shirts, presents from Jonas and Amira. Amira doesn’t celebrate Christmas but she still gets me a present every year. They’re really thoughtful presents too. Last year, she got me a magickal cactus that makes every room feel nicer because she always thought my room was too gloomy when she came to visit Mia or me in summer. The year before, she got me a pen that was charmed to write on its own because she knows how much I hate writing by hand.

I’m not half as good of a friend to Amira as she is to me. I’m not even a decent flatmate. All I could manage was to get Mia a new lid for her pan (because I ruined her old one) and buy a scented candle for Linn. And I made Hans a voucher for a movie day. I don’t have anything for David and Laura. What do you even get your nemesis of seven years?

**David**

Laura and Linn are almost unbearably cute. It’s like they’re constantly gravitating towards each other, always touching each other as if to remind themselves that the other person is there, smiling and laughing and looking happier than I’ve seen my sister in ages. I didn’t know two people could be so in love. Looking at them makes something in my chest restrict. It’s everything I know I’ll never have.

I’m happy for Laura though. She deserves to be as happy as she is right now. I know she spends too much time worrying about me. It’s good to see her let go a little. She spent an entire afternoon decorating our living room because she wanted the flat to be all cute and cosy. She wanted it to feel like Christmas, she said. Like proper Christmas.

We haven’t had that in years. Christmas used to be perfect. Complete with cheesy decorations and Christmas music and every traditional Christmas meal you could think of. I only remember one Christmas with my mum but I remember how nice it was and there’s pictures to prove it. After she died, it wasn’t the same, but father tried most years. He decorated a little and he gave us presents, even if they weren’t what we wanted at all. (Like the time he got me a thousand-page long book because he knew I liked to read, except I was only 8 at the time and was busy reading children’s books. Or the time he got Laura a really expensive coupon to a fish restaurant even though she hadn’t been eating fish for years.)

But Christmas still isn’t the same if it’s just Laura and me. He came to celebrate with us the first year after I’d moved in with Laura but it was so awkward that he came up with an excuse for why he couldn’t come the year after. We still invite him every year but he doesn’t even bother coming up with excuses anymore. Just says no.

I think Laura is hoping that this year will somehow, magically, be better. Because there’s more people here and that drowns out the utter loneliness of spending Christmas without both of your parents. Because it at least gives us a reason to try and pretend. Or maybe just because she’s ridiculously in love and apparently, that makes everything better. Either way, she got me a cheesy Christmas jumper that I had to promise to wear on Christmas Day and she hung up lots of garlands and fairy lights. She even bought a tree, a real one, and made me decorate it with her. I have to admit that it looks nice. It’s endlessly cheesy but it’s also sweet. Almost like we’re a normal, functioning family.

Except Florenzi is here and that’s the opposite of normal. It’s not enough that we’re roommates at school and he somehow dragged me into his very own detective story, I’m also spending break with him now. It feels strange, Florenzi being in my home. It feels like he’s seeing too much, like he’s going to figure out every single one of my secrets. Like if I don’t pay attention, he’ll get too close.

I hid all the drawings I didn’t want Florenzi to see before he arrived. All the personal ones, like one of Laura as my guardian angel or one of my mum. And I made sure to hide the drawings I made of Florenzi so well that it’s impossible he’ll find them by accident. I can’t risk that.

But seeing him in my room is still weird. I laid out a mattress for him on the floor which makes this whole thing weirdly reminiscent of a sleepover. Like we’ll start spilling out all our darkest secrets once we both lie in bed and turn off the light.

Florenzi hasn’t even been here an hour and he’s already scattered his stuff all over my room. I cleared a drawer for him at Laura’s instruction but instead of putting all his stuff in there he put it onto the dresser and my bedside table and the floor. For some reason, there’s even a shirt lying on my bed. When I ask him about it, he just shrugs and says, “Laura said to feel at home.” I want to strangle him but I also want him to keep scattering his shirts all over my room. The weird thing is that Florenzi in my room almost … fits.

Now, he’s draped all over my armchair and he keeps staring at me. 

“Why do you live with your sister and not with your dad?” he asks eventually.

So we’re getting deep and personal now. I see. I decide to play along.

“My dad and I … we don’t really get along that well. He wants me to be someone I’m not.”

Florenzi looks at me with a thoughtful look. “Because you’re trans?”

“No. He took that surprisingly well. So well that I thought Laura was never going to forgive me when he made me heir to everything immediately.” I remember it so clearly. He came to me with about three hundred different documents and all I could think about was that I didn’t want my sister to hate me forever. She didn’t care one bit though.

“He’s just … well, he has these ideas. Of Laura and me being his perfect children. Representing the family, being respectable and well-liked. Picture perfect mages. And as you can imagine, neither of us are,” I explain.

“Because Laura’s a lesbian and you are …?” Shit. I forgot Florenzi doesn’t technically know I’m a vampire. And I’m certainly not about to confirm it now. So I decide to go with the lesser of the two evils. What’s one more personal thing Florenzi knows about me?

“I’m not exactly straight either. No perfect family with perfect children-in-law and grandkids for my dad,” I explain. It’s not a lie. It’s part of why I don’t get along with my dad.

Florenzi is staring at me. I can’t decipher the look in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you were gay,” he says.

I really hope he’s not going to turn out to be homophobic. That would just be the biggest fucking irony of fate.

“Not gay, exactly. I’m pan.” Why am I discussing my sexuality with Florenzi? The world is truly upside down.

“Pan?” he asks. He’s furrowing his brows but he looks curious.

“Pansexual. It means the gender of the person I’m attracted to doesn’t really matter to me. It’s more about personality and the connection I have with that person.” Who thought I would ever educate Florenzi on the LGBTQ+ community?

“Oh.” He still looks thoughtful. Like he doesn’t know what to do with this information. It probably doesn’t fit the evil vampire picture he had of me in his head. (Are evil vampires straight? I don’t even know and _I’m_ the evil vampire here.)

But he turns to me with a grin. “Have you ever been in love?”

No fucking way. I’m not going there with Florenzi. I’m not discussing _feelings_. Expecially not those kind of feelings.

“That’s none of your business,” I answer him brusquely.

“Why? Does that mean it’s someone I know?” His grin grows wider. “Let me guess. Leonie.”

I snort and then I scold myself for snorting because that’s not very composed of me. Snorting is something Florenzi does, not something I do.

“Okay, maybe not,” Florenzi keeps guessing. “One of your minions, then.”

“My minions?” I have no idea what he means. 

“Yeah, you know, Carlos and Abdi,” he explains. At my confused look, he continues, “They follow you around everywhere. Like they’re your minions.”

“They’re not my _minions_.” I’m a bit offended he thinks of my friendships like that.

“Okay, your _friends_ ,” he relents. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“The answer is no, Florenzi. And I’m not talking about this with you.” I decide to divert from the topic as fast as I can. “Anyway, you tell me why you don’t live with your dad.”

His entire face darkens so quickly that I almost regret the topic change. Please don’t let his dad be lost too.

“My dad moved to Italy. He has a new family now, all perfect and happy.” He sounds bitter and I’m almost relieved about that. At least it’s no more sad stories.

“And you didn’t want to join them?” Living in Italy with a perfect family doesn’t sound too bad to me.

“Never. I’d rather have spent all my summers in a care home,” Florenzi says.

“A care home? I thought you lived with Hans, Mia and Linn.” I didn’t know he lived in a care home.

“I do now. The first summer after my mum was gone …” he doesn’t finish the sentence. He clearly doesn’t want to think about that time in his life. I decide to respect that. (Because sometimes, I can be nice. Recently, all I want to do is be nice to Florenzi. It sucks.)

“Hans and Linn are cool,” I say instead. They really are. Hans seems like he makes every room he enters brighter and Linn has a calming presence around her.

“Yeah,” Florenzi agrees. There’s a light smile on his face now. He must really love them. Then, his cheeky grin returns. “You didn’t mention Mia.”

“I’m sure she’s cool too. I just don’t think she likes me that much,” I defend myself.

“Mhm,” Florenzi nods and I can see the sarcasm all over his face. I can’t help laughing at that.

“So you two don’t get along?” I ask.

Florenzi shrugs. “She’s nice enough. She just has very different ideas of how to manage a household than I do.”

“Which means?” I’m curious now.

“She loves when everything’s clean and I hate cleaning up.” He giggles, like he’s fondly remembering all the times he didn’t clean up and Mia got angry at him for it.

I shake my head at him. I knew Florenzi was a terrible roommate but I can only guess at how infuriating it is to live in an entire flat with him.

“I’ll tell Laura that you’d love to help her clean up after dinner,” I tell Florenzi. He gives me a murderous look. “Or maybe you’d like to help her cook?” I suggest.

“Contrary to what you may believe, I do actually like to cook.” I didn’t expect him to say that. I can’t imagine Florenzi in the kitchen. What does he cook?

“Really?” I narrow my eyes. “What do you cook?”

“Mostly Italian,” he answers. “Like pasta or risotto. You should try my Pasta alla Luigi, it’s delicious.” He’s silent for a moment. “But it includes garlic. Can you eat garlic?”

I give him a deadpan look and he almost falls over in giggles. I don’t know what’s happening here but it’s intoxicating and I want to spend the rest of my life talking to Matteo Florenzi about garlic. I want to spend the rest of my life making him giggle like that.

“Garlic is the best. I could never cook without garlic,” he sighs once he’s calmed down. “It must suck to be a vampire.”

“Vampires can eat garlic!” I protest.

Florenzi tries to raise an eyebrow at me but he fails spectacularly.

“That looks like you’re constipated,” I tell him, which results in another fit of laughter.

“We can’t all have perfect control over our faces like you, Mr Schreibner.” He tries to give me an accusing look but there’s still a smile written all over his face.

“I’m just naturally skilled,” I say. (That’s a lie. It took me half a year of practising in front of a mirror to be able to raise one eyebrow in a condescending way.)

Florenzi pokes his tongue out at me.

We’re interrupted by Laura shouting “Dinner is ready!” from outside my door. Florenzi jumps up like an excited child and I follow him into the living room.

Dinner is really nice. Laura has made Sunday roast (a vegan version, which leads to Florenzi making disgusted sounds at first but complimenting Laura on how good it tastes once he’s actually tried it) and for dessert, Hans and Linn have brought a Christmas pudding that they made themselves. Laura even manages to convince all of us to play board games after. It lasts until it’s midnight and Florenzi keeps accusing Hans of cheating, Mia is arguing about the rules with Laura and we’re all too tired to pay attention anyway.

Sleeping in one room with Florenzi shouldn’t be weird. It should be something I’m used to. And I am, at Watford. I’m just not used to Florenzi being in _my_ room. We both got ready for bed and said goodnight and turned out the lights but something feels weird. Florenzi keeps breathing heavily, like he wants me to say something. Like he wants to make it very clear he’s not sleeping. He’ll probably tell me that the floor is uncomfortable or that the room smells like evil or something like that. Eventually, I can’t take it any longer and turn on my bedside table light again.

“What do you want?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I’m not tired at all. I can never sleep on Christmas Eve.”

“Why? Are you too excited for Santa Claus?” He narrows his eyes at me which leads me to believe that, maybe, I’m not too far off.

“Santa Claus doesn’t visit evil families,” he answers.

I shake my head at him. He’ll never stop accusing me of being evil. He’s done it for seven years now and I don’t think he’ll ever tire of it.

“Does he visit your flatshare?” I’m genuinely curious about how they usually celebrate there. And how life is with the four of them. They seem like such a weird combination of mages.

Florenzi smiles a little. “Hans dresses up sometimes and makes a show of giving us all presents but I don’t think he brought the costume.”

“What a pity,” I say.

“Believe me, you should be glad you don’t have to witness it. I think it’s actually a stripper costume but don’t ask me where he got it from.”

We both burst into laughter at that. It only lasts for about a second because we realise what we’re doing and that everyone else is sleeping already. And also that enemies aren’t supposed to laugh together. (Though they’re probably also not supposed to spend Christmas together. And it’s too late anyway. We spent the whole day getting along somehow.)

It stays silent for a bit until Florenzi murmurs “Good night” and turns around.

“Good night,” I say back. I try to close my eyes and sleep but it takes me ages to fall asleep. It’s only once I can hear Florenzi’s regular breathing (so familiar) that I finally manage.

…

Hans and Mia have decided to prepare breakfast for us all the next morning. It’s surprisingly homely, the six of us eating breakfast together. A bit like a family, just like Laura wanted. I’m comfortable around them, not just around Florenzi, but also around Hans, Linn and Mia.

Hans makes us sing Christmas carols with him and then we sit around the tree and eat chocolate and breakfast and exchange presents.

It’s a mess. Since we don’t all know each other, we had to improvise. Mia has coupons for Laura and me, Linn gifts me some drawing supplies because Laura told her I like to draw, Hans has made chocolate truffles for everyone.

Florenzi doesn’t have any presents for Laura and me. “My presence is present enough,” he declares cheekily which gets him a laugh from Laura and an annoyed look from Mia and Hans.

Laura got everyone plants. She talked to me for days about it, about how she didn’t know Linn’s flatmates well enough to know what kind of plants to get them and how she really wanted to give them a nice, thoughtful present. I told her it didn’t matter. And it’s true, they don’t care one bit about what kind of plant it is, just about the fact that they got one.

I’m a bit nervous when Florenzi unpacks my present. It’s a stupid present. But I thought I needed to give him something and I saw it in a shop a few days ago, so I decided to buy it. It fits him.

When he sees the boxing pen, he gives me a delighted look. “I had one of these when I was a child, I always wanted one again!” He’s already making it box and I don’t see him stop anytime soon. Giving him this was probably a mistake.

But Linn outdoes us all. She made Laura a little box which contains messages for every day of the year. It’s endlessly cheesy. And really cute. I think if I have to endure more time around Laura and Linn, I’ll get sick.

When all the presents are unpacked and breakfast is eaten, Mia says goodbye to us to go celebrate the rest of Christmas with her boyfriend. Hans, Linn and Laura decide to go for a walk which means it’s only Florenzi and me in the flat. I shouldn’t be so nervous about spending time with him alone.

“Hey,” Laura says softly when Hans and Linn have already left and are waiting for her downstairs. She’s touching my arm lightly, as if to reassure me of something.

“Yeah?” I’m not sure if I should be scared or not.

“When I was cleaning up, I found some things … some pictures and small things. Some are really old, from mum at school. I put them in a box on the attic, if you want to look at it. But only if you want to.” She smiles at me.

I probably come off as reserved when I say, “Sure, thanks.” I’ve seen barely any pictures of mum at school, except for the one I got from Florenzi. I don’t know if I’m ready for more. But it’s Christmas and I’m missing her and maybe I’ll even find something about Florenzi’s mum. I’ll just need a little time to brace myself first.

**Matteo**

I wish my mum was here. Christmas is one of the days of the year I miss her most. We’d spend the day baking cookies and making a mess in the kitchen when I was younger. I always loved that more than anything.

All I have of her now is two letters. The one from the beginning of the school year and the one I found after she vanished. I’ve read that first letter I found so often that the paper is worn thin in the middle. I used to carry it with me everywhere. Now I just take it to Watford when school starts and back home when there’s a break. I brought it here though. I need to hold something that reminds me of her at Christmas.

Now, I’ve hidden away in the attic of Laura and David’s flat (they have an _attic_ ) and I’m taking up my letter in between all the boxes hidden up here.

_Dear Matteo,_

_I am so sorry for leaving you alone. I know you’ll be angry at me for leaving you behind and leaving without saying goodbye. I wish I could explain. But I can’t. Just know that I would never have left you if there was any other way._

_Remember, if everything gets too much, you take deep breaths and you focus on the small things, like your shoelaces. I’m proud of you and I know you’ll continue to make me proud._

_love you very much, my little butterfly._

_I hope I’ll see you again one day._

_Mama_

It’s stupid to read it. I’ve known it by heart for years. But I can’t help but look at it again and again. At her writing, the way every _o_ has a little hook on top and every _a_ feels like it contains all her love for me. My finger traces over that last sentence. _I hope I’ll see you again one day_. I hope so too, Mama. I really do.

“What’s that?” a voice asks. David is leaning against the door frame and looking at me.

Shit. He wasn’t supposed to find me here. But of course I can’t hide from him in his own flat.

“Just a letter,” I brush him off. I can’t show him this. I just can’t. It feels too much like opening up my heart and showing him everything.

“From who?” he wants to know. David and his damned curiosity. He can never just let something go.

“Not important,” I mumble.

For a moment, I think he’ll let it go. His voice sounds different when he asks, “It’s from your mum, isn’t it?”

I shrug which, really, is answer enough.

“Does it contain anything that might help us?” He sounds almost gentle. I didn’t know he could sound like that.

“It’s just a stupid letter she left me when she disappeared,” I explain. I feel so stupid about how much this letter means to me. About carrying it with me for four years, about clinging to it like it’s somehow a real connection to her when it’s nothing of the sort. It’s just some stupid words she wrote to calm me.

David keeps looking at me with too much gentleness in his eyes. “I really think it might help us,” he insists. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

Everything in me screams no but there’s a desperate part of me that can’t let even the tiniest chance of finding something that might help us go, so I hand him the letter. Carefully, he takes it and starts reading. I can’t look at him reading it. I don’t want him to laugh or make fun of me.

When he’s finally done, what he says is not what I expected: “Why does she mention your shoelaces?”

“What?” I snatch the letter back from him and I’m a tiny bit angry because that is what he chooses to focus on? Is he going to make fun of me for being overwhelmed sometimes? “She wanted to help me, why is that wrong? It’s something she used to say, that I should focus on the little things.”

David looks at me and something in his expression shifts, almost like he becomes softer. “I just mean, it’s a bit weird that she specifically mentions your shoelaces, isn’t it?”

“Why would it be weird?” What is he trying to say?

“Well, you were 14 when she wrote you that letter, right? You never wore shoes with shoelaces until last year, you always had those shoes with buckles.”

“Those weren’t stupid!” I immediately defend myself. But he does have a point. It’s weird. I can’t believe I never noticed that before.

“I never said they were stupid.” David gives me a weird look. Right, he didn’t. He just told me about a million times back when we were children.

I decide not to push it. Instead, I ask: “What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know, it’s your mum!” Of course, he gets defensive immediately. He can never just be helpful, the tosser.

I roll my eyes at him and get up, ready to leave the attic. And go where? It’s not like I can go hide in my room.

“Wait,” David says. “What do you think it could mean?”

I want to scream that I don’t know. Part of me is angry, so angry, that we’re dissecting my mum’s letter. That I can’t just miss her in peace. What if we find out something and it changes everything? What if we don’t find her? What if we do and she doesn’t recognise me or she– no, don’t go there. I slide down the wall again until I’m sitting on the floor, David next to me.

“We’ll find her. She’ll still be your mum,” David says quietly. He sounds so sure. Like he believes what he’s saying.

“And what if we don’t?” is what I want to say but what comes out is, “Okay.”

We stay quiet for a bit. Then, David says “It’s okay to miss her more in moments like this.”

I want to tell him that I don’t miss her at all, just to argue with him. To have somewhere to put all this energy that wants to get out of me at all times. I want to tell him to stay out of my business and let me miss my mum in peace. I want to tell him that I don’t hate him at all and that maybe, we could actually be friends, if he just acted like a bit less of an arse sometimes.

Instead, I tell him about baking cookies with her on Christmas and how we used to put on the radio and dance to any of the shit Christmas songs that were popular at the moment. Of how my mum was always a big fan of _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ and I liked _Baby, It’s Cold Outside_. Of how Christmas was somehow always quiet and peaceful, no matter how much my parents were fighting at the moment or how bad everything was otherwise.

He listens to everything I say and when I’m done, all he says is, “There’s a Tesco that’s still open around the corner.”

And so I find myself in a tiny Tesco shopping for Christmas cookie ingredients with my nemesis David Schreibner on Christmas Day. It sounds like the set-up to a really bad joke.

But the worst thing, the thing that makes this all truly unbelievable, is that I’m having a good time. I’m having a good time when we’re in Tesco and David puts three times as much chocolate into our basket as we need because he thinks no cookie can ever contain too much chocolate. I’m having a good time when we’re in the kitchen later and everything’s a mess and David keeps eating the cookie dough before it’s even finished. I’m having a good time when he grins at me and turns on _Baby, It’s Cold Outside_ at full volume. I’m even having a good time when we manage to burn our first batch of cookies and have to tear open every kitchen window to get rid of the smoke.

When we’re waiting for the last batch of cookies to be done, David vanishes and comes back with a small box a moment later.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“The reason I went to the attic earlier.” He doesn’t explain any more than that and I don’t ask any more. But he opens the box and starts looking through a bunch of photos.

After a minute of silence, he says, “They’re photos of my mother. Laura told me she’d found them recently and that she’s never seen them before. I thought we could look at them. Maybe we’ll find out more about your mum too?”

Right. I almost forgot about that picture of our mothers together. I’m not sure I’m ready to find out more about that particular part of my mum’s history.

But before I can protest, David gestures for me to sit down next to him. The first few photos are in black and white and show a young girl. The resemblance to David is definitely there but now that I know Laura, I notice just how similar to her mother she looks. They have the exact same facial expressions. It’s almost scary.

As David’s mum grows older in the photos, more pictures at school show up. And then, another girl starts appearing next to her. This is what I was afraid of. More photos of my mum. Finding out too much or too little. Finding out that my mum wasn’t who I thought she was at all.

There’s so many pictures. Our mums at school together. In formal dress. At tea. Sometimes, there is a man on the pictures who has to be David’s father. He has the same nose and arrogant look in his eyes.

One of the last pictures we find shows both our mothers sitting in the grass, a small girl running around in front of them.

“Is that …,” I begin.

“Laura,” David finishes. He sounds amazed, in a way I don’t think I’ve ever heard him before. He can’t stop staring at this picture of his mother and his sister. I guess I never thought much about it but he has grown up without a mother at all. That can’t have been easy.

There’s a few more pictures of them together, some with tiny Laura and some without her. The last picture on the pile shows a slightly older Laura between our mothers. My mum is very pregnant. But David’s mum has a tiny bundle in her hands. We don’t see a face but we both know that it has to be David.

When I look at him, I could swear that he has a tear in his eye. He turns his face away before I can look any closer. I give him a moment before I clear my throat.

“So … our mothers were definitely friends?” It’s a stupid question. We already knew that.

I don’t know how I expect him to react but it’s not with laughter. I thought I’d gotten better at figuring out his emotions in the past weeks but right now, I can’t tell how he feels at all. He’s all closed off.

“Fucking irony of fate, isn’t it, Florenzi,” he spits out. His stare is all cold, every trace of the comfortable bickering feeling of the last days between us gone. I guess we’re back to this then.

“Git,” I murmur. He rolls his eyes.

I look at the pictures again, trying to focus on everything else outside of my mum. There’s a boy that’s on almost every picture from school. He has to be a bit younger than our mothers. When I look at his face for too long, I realise that he reminds me of my mum. It’s almost like he’s–

“Do you have an uncle?” David asks. So he’s noticed as well.

“No. Only on my dad’s side,” I answer. I don’t have an uncle. At least I’ve never met one. Or heard about one. My mother was an only child. I know that for certain.

**David**

“It can’t be,” Florenzi says. And then again, “It can’t be.”

I don’t know how to react. He’s clearly overwhelmed and I’m supposed to do something, but I have no idea what. I’m no good at this.

 _Focus on the little things_ , I remember. I can’t say that to him. I can’t quote his _mum_ at him.

But he looks so lost. Like he has no idea how to act. Like he’s completely frozen.

So I tell him, very quietly: “Focus on the little things.”

He doesn’t react. Just keeps staring at the picture of our mothers and the mysterious boy.

Tentatively, I reach out to him, touching his hand very lightly. There’s a bolt of lightning running up my arm but I try to ignore it. _Not now._

“Focus on … your shoelaces,” I try again. Before I know what’s happening, it’s like he’s exploding. He’s thrown my hand off and is shouting at me.

_“Don’t tell me what to do!”_

There’s no magic in his words and I don’t want to imagine what would have happened if there were. Before the situation has truly registered with me, Matteo is storming out of the kitchen and vanishing down the hall. I’ve done it wrong. I’ve done it all wrong. Of course I have.

I think about going after him, for a quick second, but I come to the conclusion that I’ve done enough damage already. Instead, I keep sitting at the table and looking at all the photos. There’s one I keep going back to, taken at Watford. Our mothers have to be in their last year. They’re sitting on the floor of a room, _their_ room, and the mysterious boy is there as well. It has to be Christmas time because he’s wearing a sweater with a reindeer and the word _Rentier_ written on it. But my mum is in a summer dress and Florenzi’s mother is wearing short trousers. It makes no sense. It’s like he doesn’t fit in. Like he’s from a different time or something.

Something is off about that boy. Florenzi’s uncle. It has to be. He and Florenzi’s mum have to be related. They look exactly the same.

I keep eating cookies and staring at the picture but when Florenzi doesn’t reappear, I decide to go look for him after all. I find him on the attic. He’s sitting in one corner, arms slung around his legs. When he sees me, he turns his face away. I still go up to him and sit down next to him.

“Hey,” I say as kindly as I can manage. “I’m really sorry. That was stupid of me.”

“It’s okay,” he says.

“It’s not,” I argue. (That’s what I’m good at. Arguing against Florenzi.)

“What’s going on with you, apologising and everything?” Florenzi scoffs. He’s turned around now and is looking at me with an accusing look in his eyes.

“I’m capable of apologising, you know. I’m just not in a position where I need to apologise, most of the time.”

He shakes his head and murmurs, “Wanker.”

“Maybe sometimes,” I admit. He shakes his head again but now he’s looking at me. I didn’t realise how close we were before now. I can see the exact shade of blue of his eyes and the bits of cookie dough that got stuck on his Christmas sweater earlier. There’s a tiny crumb of cookie left on his cheek and I have to stop myself from brushing it away.

One time, I almost kissed him. We were having a fight and he was just done screaming about how much he hates me and he was right there. His cheeks all red and his eyes so blue and unspectacular. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him. The Anathema saved me. I guess it thought I was attacking him, so it froze me in place. (Maybe I was. Attacking him. Maybe I just didn’t know it myself.) Florenzi never figured it out. He was just more scared of me after.

But now we’re really close and Florenzi is not moving away, even though he’s supposed to be scared. (He’s always scared of me.) He’s just staring at me with his too blue eyes and his mouth slightly open.

“Mouth-breather,” I whisper. To tease him. To make him do something. Because it’s the only way I know how to talk to him.

He closes his mouth and gulps. And he still doesn’t move away.

**Matteo**

We’ve been staring at each other for what feels like ages. It’s like time is slowing down. (It really might be. Time does weird stuff sometimes. It’s unpredictable.)

I’ve never stared at David for this long. No, that’s not true. I’m never not staring at him. I’ve never stared at David this openly. That’s also not true. I’m always doing that. _He_ ’s never stared at _me_ this openly.

He looks so vulnerable like this. Like he’s just a boy. (He’s not, I remind myself. He’s a vampire. He could kill me right now if he wanted to. Or Turn me.)

Fuck. What am I doing?

**David**

I don’t know what has changed, but he’s turning away now. Maybe he remembered that he hates me. I guess my dreams of making out with Matteo Florenzi all through the night won’t come true tonight. (Or ever. We’re on a truce now, but that doesn’t change anything about how he feels. Obviously.)

Except I’m pretty sure he did just almost kiss me. He must have been. Florenzi isn’t stupid and he’s definitely aware of what happens if you’re that close to someone else. Maybe it’s just because he was all up in his emotions. Because it’s Christmas and he’s missing his mum and probably his friends and I’m here. I don’t care. I don’t care one bit what his reasons were.

Because whatever happens now, I’ll always know that, for one short moment, Matteo Florenzi was about to kiss me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a ride! I think this is my favourite chapter so far. I hope you enjoyed it as well! 
> 
> We'll (hopefully) see each other soon, I promise you, chapter 6 is a good one.


	7. Chapter Six: I Just Want You To Know Who I Am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Six: Travels, secret drawings, Rentier, silence and too much toast. 
> 
> What is time? We don’t know her. But actually we do, because as I said last week, my semester is starting to get really stressful, so from now on (until probably the middle of June), I’ll only update this every second week. Sorry for that but thank you so much for sticking with me until now, it really means the world! 
> 
> It’s parents and adults appreciation week and while I’m not going to write an appreciation fic for my other project this week, this chapter actually fits very well. So happy parents and adults appreciation week! (Also happy Davenzi anniversary? I guess?) 
> 
> Today’s title is brought to you by Iris from The Goo Goo Dolls, also known as one of the songs the fandom most associates with Davenzi. 
> 
> Lastly, I’ve never been to Dalby Forest and I have no idea how it actually looks, so you need to allow for a bit of poetic license here.

**Chapter Six: I Just Want You To Know Who I Am**

**David**

It’s a picture perfect day. The sun is shining despite the cold December air and there’s a little bit of snow, just enough for it to look beautiful but not actually get everything wet. Driving through the English countryside couldn’t be more perfect than today. Except it’s cold as fuck outside and Florenzi is ignoring me.

All trace of us getting along was gone the day after Christmas. Whatever happened in the kitchen has irreversibly changed something between us, and it wasn’t for the better. It’s like he hates me even more now. Like he wants to stay away as much as possible. Maybe he thinks I was about to bite him. Maybe he didn’t actually catch on and he hasn’t realised that I don’t hate him at all.

After spending Boxing Day in a lot of awkward silence and our very own boardgame tournament (that ended in Florenzi and me shouting angrily at each other), we got up in the morning and decided to travel to Dalby Forest. Florenzi spent about half an hour packing his stuff, packing extra clothes and unpacking them, packing crisps and unpacking them, packing every little thing he could find only to leave with barely anything in the end.

Laura had stopped us right when we were about to leave the flat and asked where we were going and if everything was alright.

“We’re going on … an adventure,” I’d blurted out. What an absolute stupid excuse. Laura didn’t buy it for even one second.

“An adventure?” She’d raised her eyebrows.

“Yes. Well, not really. It’s for school. We have a project and we need to do it in the city, so we thought we would do it now.” The lies just kept streaming out of me. I felt terrible, lying to my sister like that. But she nodded and smiled a little and left me alone. So we took the tube to Kings Cross and, after buying more sandwiches than two people could possibly eat in a day and almost missing our train in the process, we’re now on our way to York.

Florenzi sleeps all through the first train. He just sits down on his seat, closes his eyes and is gone. I don’t know how he does it.

All I can do is look out of the window, listen to Hozier and let my thoughts drift. They keep going back to Christmas Day, to being in the kitchen with Florenzi, baking and dancing and fooling around. How nice it all felt. To the moment where he almost kissed me, that small sliver of hope that I haven’t been able to quench since. (Even if it’s stupid. Even if I know that he’ll never like me like that.)

I haven’t stopped thinking about that moment since it happened. About being so close to him, all trace of hostility between us gone. For a moment, it felt like, maybe, my hopeless dreams aren’t as unreachable as they seem. That someone like Florenzi, bright and beautiful, could like me.

But of course, we’re back to being enemies now. Being on a train journey with Florenzi isn’t exactly comfortable. When we’re in the second train, the one that will bring us to Scarborough, he starts unpacking all the sandwiches we bought and eating one after the other. He doesn’t even ask me if I want one too, just keeps eating. I eventually get one egg & cress sandwich and one with cheese off of him but I feel like I’m still hungry after.

Eventually, I decide to ignore Florenzi altogether and listen to my music in peace, so I turn the volume of my headphones up and close my eyes. But no matter how much I try not to think about it, I’m never not aware of Florenzi being right next to me and yet so far away.

**Matteo**

David has sandwich crumbs on his cheek. Two, to be precise. It’s kind of like when you’re watching a film and something gross happens. I can’t look away, even if I’m trying to. He doesn’t even notice, just keeps listening to his music. (What do vampires listen to? Classical music? Songs about murdering people?) I think he’s trying to sleep. Or maybe he’s just ignoring me. I think I like him best like this. Not paying any attention to me, just being peaceful and calm and not a danger to anyone. (That’s a lie. The David I like best is the David that spent Christmas Day baking cookies with me. Decidedly.)

I’ve tried not to think about what happened between us. We were friendly, properly friendly. We were getting along. No fights, not ones with meaning anyway, just little ones about how much butter to use or who had to do the washing up. And then … well.

I think I would have kissed him. If he’d let me. If I hadn’t turned away. I think I would have liked it, even. David’s probably a spectacular kisser. He’s good at everything. And he’s so handsome I’m sure he’s had plenty of opportunity for kissing. But I shouldn’t be thinking about whether or not David is a good kisser. I shouldn’t be thinking about David at all.

Instead, I should probably be thinking about my angry girlfriend. I didn’t get her a present. I just didn’t know what I should give her. So I got an angry text message from her and an even angrier one from Leonie in return.

But what happened yesterday … it makes me think that maybe, I’ve got a chance. Maybe, if I manage to break up with Sara and forget about trying to be with girls, I’ve got a chance at meeting someone. Someone who won’t hate me. Someone like David. (But obviously _not_ David. He’s just a metaphor in this scenario.)

When I turn towards the window to look at the view, I can hear paper rustling in my pocket. I really should have thought about this more, stealing from David and then taking it with me when we’re travelling alone. I don’t even know why I took it.

There was a paper lying under his bed when I got up in the morning. I probably shouldn’t have looked at it. It could have been a really personal letter or an essay for school or an evil plan to rule the world. But I was really curious about what kind of stuff David hides under his bed. He’s so good at hiding and not letting me see anything and I’m so curious about who he is.

Turns out the paper was a drawing. It shows a face, a really nice face, and it took me a moment to realise that it’s me. Because it doesn’t look like me, not really. I can’t really place why. There’s just something that’s off.

I’ve always been curious about whether David draws me. I expected him to draw me like a monster. Pour out all his hate for me into a picture. The drawing doesn’t really look like he hates me. It’s a pretty good drawing. Something about it made me feel weird, but I didn’t think about it too much and put it in my pocket instead. It’s of me anyway, so it basically belongs to me.

Now, I’m really hoping David won’t notice. He won’t agree with me. He’ll just get angry at me and who knows what might happen then. We’re out here in the middle of England, with no protection whatsoever. I can’t even rely on my magic to save me. He could end me right here and now. (Or maybe not _right here_ because we’re on a train, but he’ll definitely have plenty of opportunity today.)

When we get off at Scarborough, we make our way straight through the city, aiming for the forest. There’s tourists everywhere, really too many considering it’s this cold and Christmas break. David gets annoyed at all of them. We barely talk, David just tells me which direction to go in every now and then. I miss talking to him. Properly talking. Joking around. Feeling like we were friends or at least like we didn’t want to murder each other.

But once we reach the forest and start looking for the hut, all my appetite for conversation it’s gone. The hike to the hut is a nightmare. We don’t even know where it lies exactly. David got out a map and looked for all the possible places it might be and then he cast spell after spell and none of them worked. So now we’re walking into nothingness, just hoping that we’ll eventually find the right place. We probably should have thought this through more.

Eventually, after we’ve walked around trees that all look the same for at least an hour, David sighs and sits down on a tree trunk.

“You know we need to do it,” he says.

“I told you I don’t want to,” I respond. I’ve told him at least five times already. I’m not changing my mind. I’m not using my magic.

“But it’s _the only way_ ,” David insists. “Do you know how big this forest is? We’ll never find it without magic.”

I shake my head. I can’t. I can’t use my magic.

“Okay, what is the issue?” David asks. He sounds annoyed. But he doesn’t get it. He’s as good as magic as he is at everything else. He’ll never get it.

I sit down on the trunk next to him. He immediately turns around to me and raises an eyebrow, like he expects me to lay out my entire history with magic in front of him. I don’t know why I do.

“It’s just … my magic isn’t … it’s not reliable, you know? I can’t just control it. And the last time I used magic, I mean properly used magic …” I trail off.

“… the Humdrum showed up,” David finishes.

“ _Yes_. And it wasn’t just then, it happens most of the time. I don’t know why it keeps happening or what I’m doing wrong.” I’m not looking at him. I don’t want him to judge me even more than he already does.

But I can feel a light touch on my arm and when I turn around to look at him, he doesn’t look like he’s judging me at all.

“You’re not doing anything wrong. You’ve got more magic than any other mage I know. Of course it’s harder to control,” he says. I don’t know why he’s being this nice to me. I don’t want his help, not really. I should be able to control my own magic by now.

But I ask anyway. “How do you control yours?”

“When I use my magic, I think about it like playing football. I need to be precise and clear and use the exact right amount of magic. It’s like kicking the ball and scoring a goal.” I can hear the love he has for magic in every word he says. I think he needs it to survive even more than I do.

“I don’t think that works for me,” I laugh a little but it’s not exactly happy. I wish I could just control my magic like that.

“Well, you can try,” he suggests. “Do you have your wand?”

I nod and take it out of my pocket. Even after all these years, it still feels weirdly unfamiliar to hold it in my hands.

“Okay, close your eyes.” I don’t know what makes me do it, but I follow his words. “Now try to feel the magic.” I’m never not aware of my magic. “Consciously, I mean.” I can feel it flowing through my veins, like blood but more essential. It already feels like it’s overflowing. “Now try to gather it.” This is what they taught us the first day at Watford and yet, I feel like I never got it until now. I finally understand. “Collect it in a place where you can take it from. Like here.” He’s touching my stomach lightly, so lightly I can barely feel it, but it still sends a shiver down my spine. “And now use it.”

 **“Blood is thicker than water!”** It comes out with full force. I think it’s too much magic at first, so much that the spell doesn’t work, but then I can feel something pull from within myself.

When I open my eyes, I can see David staring at me. His cheeks are flushed. “Did it work?” he asks breathlessly.

“I think so.” I feel giddy, full of energy and purpose. I feel like I finally know what it’s like to be a proper mage. But I don’t have time to think about that. I need to follow the magic.

We walk through the trees faster than I’ve probably ever walked before in my life. I’m following where the magic pulls me and David is following me, deeper and deeper into the trees. After walking for at least another hour, in silence and anticipation, we come into a small clearing.

And there it is. It actually exists. The place we visited with that spell, it’s a real place, and we’re here. I’m so nervous I think I might explode.

I don’t know what I would do without David here (turn around or stand here until someone comes out) but he walks straight ahead towards the hut and knocks on the door. We could still run now. Turn around and leave. But my mum might be here. I’ll never run.

A few moments pass and then the door opens slightly. There’s a face, definitely the boy from the pictures (except he’s grown-up). He looks at us suspiciously.

“Password?” he asks.

**David**

I’m waiting for Florenzi to say something, introduce us or ask a question or just do _something_. But he’s not moving. He’s just staring at the guy in front of us.

After staying silent for a few moments, I finally say: “Hello. We’re looking for someone and we were wondering if you might be able to help us.”

“And you are?” the man asks.

“My name is David, and this is Matteo.” Something in the man’s face shifts when he hears Florenzi’s name.

“Matteo?” he asks, like he can’t quite believe it. He’s staring at Florenzi and Florenzi keeps staring back. Then, the door closes for a moment before it opens widely. “Come on in.”

His hut is smaller on the inside than it looks from outside. It looks like it only consists of two rooms, the one we’re standing in right now (a weird combination of entrance, living room and kitchen) and one that must be behind a door opposite us. It’s cosy though. It looks like something straight out of Scandinavia.

He leads us to a sofa. There’s a fireplace that makes the whole place warmer than is comfortable and even a few Christmas decorations hanging around. The man himself is wearing a Christmas sweater too, like in the pictures we found.

He gestures for us to sit down on his sofa and sits down opposite us on an armchair that looks like it’s at least 50 years old. It doesn’t smell much better.

Florenzi is still as silent as if someone had spelled his voice away but I can tell he’s nervous. He keeps looking around the room, as if searching for something. _Someone._ He was so sure that his mum was going to be here. I want to reassure him, let him know that everything will turn out alright, but I have no idea how. I can’t just take his hand or smile at him. That’s not how we work.

“What do you want?” the man asks.

Florenzi finally finds his voice again because he manages to sputter out, “Who are you?”

The man stares at him for a minute, like he’s contemplating something. “I’m Rentier,” he says then.

“What kind of name is that?” That’s Florenzi as I know him. Always direct, never afraid of accidentally insulting people.

“Mine,” Rentier answers, as if that explains everything. Florenzi seems to get it because he just nods.

“So, what do you want here?” Rentier asks again.

Florenzi is ignoring his question. “Do you know who I am? I mean, do you know me?”

“Do _you_ know _me_ , Matteo?” Rentier asks back. I’m completely absorbed in their conversation. It’s fascinating, to hear them talk. It’s like they intrinsically get each other. Like if you held up a mirror in front of Florenzi and told him to talk to himself, this is what would happen. I feel like I miss half of what is said here because they talk so much between the lines.

“No,” Florenzi says.

“Well, does that answer your question?” Rentier smiles at Florenzi, with an infuriatingly calm look in his eyes.

Florenzi shakes his head. “You’re my uncle, aren’t you?”

“That depends on who your parents are, doesn’t it?” Rentier is still smiling.

“You’re my mum’s brother. Sabine Florenzi. You have to be,” Florenzi is saying now. I feel like we’re being hasty here, stumbling into this conversation and this situation without thinking about it enough, but maybe that’s exactly what this needs. A headfirst dive into this conversation instead of overthinking everything, as I would do.

Rentier’s face shifts at Florenzi’s words. He looks sadder now. “Yes. Sabine is my sister.”

I can feel Florenzi tense up next to me. His voice is shaking when he asks, “Do you know where she is?”

There’s a shadow moving over Rentier’s face. “No. I’m sorry, Matteo. I really am.”

I can only see Florenzi’s face out of the corner of my eye but I can see it fall. He put all his hopes on this. On coming here, on finding something that might lead us to his mum. On his mum being here. I decide to take it from here.

“We have some questions either way. Do you think you could help us?” I ask after a minute of silence.

Rentier looks at me for probably the first time today. “And you are?”

“David,” I repeat. Then, because I feel stupid not introducing myself by my full name, “David Schreibner.”

I’m looking closely at Rentier’s reaction to my name but he doesn’t react much. So he must have known my mother before she met my father. Or maybe he just doesn’t care about the Old Families at all.

“That doesn’t ring a bell,” Rentier drives the point home. I can feel Florenzi move beside me and it takes me a moment to get that he’s silently laughing.

“Guess your family is not as important as you like to think it is,” he whispers smugly.

Rentier turns back to me at those words. “Ah. Old Family?”

I nod. “I think you knew my mother. Anita Schreibner.”

At her name, there’s sudden realisation on Rentier’s face. “Anita. Of course. She was a dear friend of mine.”

For some reason, I can’t quite picture that, my mother and Rentier being close friends. I’d just assumed that they only knew each other because of Florenzi’s mum.

“You see, we found these pictures and …” I start but Rentier interrupts me.

“I think I’m too hungry for this.” He’s still smiling at us, his infuriatingly nice smile. “Do you also want tea?” he asks us. I want to laugh at how absurd this whole situation is. I’m only now realising. We just met Florenzi’s uncle that he had no idea even existed until today and now he’s inviting us for tea in his little hut in the middle of the woods. He could try to poison us. He could be the Humdrum in disguise, ready to end Florenzi once and for all. So many things could go wrong with this.

But I don’t think I could get Florenzi to turn around now with any arguments I could come up with. Not even if Rentier pulled out a knife and started attacking us. And really, he seems nice enough. He’s mostly high, I think.

I’m also incredibly hungry and judging by the sounds coming out of Florenzi’s stomach for the past half hour, he is too.

“Sure,” I answer. Florenzi nods vehemently next to me.

**Matteo**

Rentier makes disgusting tea. I don’t know what about this is supposed to taste good but what he puts in front of us tastes like cardboard. It also has about the colour of cardboard. I can’t even tell what he was trying to make. David and I eat a little, out of politeness, but neither of us finishes our portion. Rentier keeps eating though, a second and a third serving.

When he’s finally done, he takes out a joint and lights it. He takes a drag and then he offers it to us.

“Thanks.” I start to reach out for it but David slaps my hand away.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he says.

Rentier shrugs and pulls back his hand. “You should probably listen to your boyfriend, Matteo.”

“He’s not my boyf–. _You_ offered me the weed!” I sputter out. Unbelievable. How could anyone ever think that David is my boyfriend?

Rentier just looks slightly amused but doesn’t comment on it further. Instead, he asks: “So, what did you want to show me?”

David and I exchange a look. I can’t tell at all what it’s supposed to mean. If only Jonas were here and we could exchange looks that I’d actually understand. So I just interpret David’s look as “go ahead.”

“My mum,” I start but I need to take a deep breath before I continue. “She was, well … she disappeared. Or left, I guess. She was just gone one day.”

Rentier nods sympathetically. So he knew. That means he might know where she is.

“We’re trying to find her. Do you know anything about her?” I’m so nervous I’m surprised there’s still sounds coming out of my mouth.

Rentier looks at me with a sad look. “I’m sorry, Matteo. I have no idea.”

I don’t know how to proceed from here. I thought she was here. I thought she had to be here. But she’s not. She’s not here, which means our spell failed. Which means we’ll never find her.

David saves me. He pulls the pictures of our mothers out of my pocket and shows them to Rentier. “We have a few questions about those. Do you think you could help us?”

Rentier takes the photos from him and a small laugh escapes him when he sees the first one. It’s the photo of our moms at school, where they’re both laughing and look so careless. He takes a long time looking through all of the photos, so long that I think maybe he’s already forgotten that we asked him a question.

But then he looks up at us and starts speaking. “We were all friends, back in school. Sabine is two years older than me, so she was always annoyed when I hung out with them, but I think she secretly liked playing the older sister. And Anita …” he laughs. “She was brilliant. Maybe the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met. She wanted to change the world. I was really rooting for her.”

I shoot a quick glance at David. His face is all closed up now and I don’t think he’ll let me know how he’s feeling anytime soon. I guess it’s my job to keep the conversation going.

“So they were friends?”, I ask Rentier.

“Oh, yes. Best friends. Inseparable.” He nods, a nostalgic smile on his face.

“And what happened?” I’m on edge now. I can’t picture my mum being friends with someone like David’s mother. Not that I knew her but from everything I know about her, she’s really scary. All confident and bossy and not at all someone I could ever see being friends with my mum.

“I don’t know,” Rentier answers. He sighs and then he hands the photos back to me. “Your mother and I … we haven’t been talking for a long time now. I just know that one day, she and Anita weren’t talking anymore. I think they got into a fight. But I don’t know more than that, sorry.”

“And you really don’t have any idea what could have caused that?” I ask. We’ve come so far. This can’t be it. There needs to be more.

Rentier sighs. “I’m assuming you know all about Stefan’s revolution and his rise to power?”

It takes me a moment to realise that he’s talking about the Mage but then I remember. Of course we know. Everyone knows.

Rentier continues. “Sabine, she … well, she thought Stefan’s ideas were noble. She liked them. Anita … not so much. She was from an Old Family, of course, and so she always thought of herself as something a little better.” I want to roll my eyes at David at that but I’m too captivated by Rentier’s words and I think David is too. “And she wasn’t a fan of Stefan or his ideals. They tried to stay friends despite that at first, but after a while, it got harder. From what I heard, Sabine couldn’t stand Anita’s husband. She thought he was corrupting her. But really, they’d always had their differences. It was just easier to ignore them at school.”

David is still acting like he doesn’t know how to talk (for once in his life) and I don’t really want to ask in front of him, but I can’t pass up this moment.

“What was she like, when you were young? My mum?” If I wasn’t nervous before, my heart starts racing now. What if she wasn’t like I remember her at all? 

Rentier smiles reminiscently. “She was one of the nicest kids I ever knew. Always looking out for everyone, helping anyone who could use help.” He takes a moment to think. “She was full of sunshine,” he says then.

I almost regret asking because I can feel my throat closing up and I really, really can’t cry in front of David. Thankfully, that’s the moment he decides to talk again.

“Do you know anything about shoelaces?” he blurts out.

“Shoelaces?” Rentier asks. “Well, I like to use them. To get my shoes to stay in place, you know. Or do you mean as a magickal object? I’ve never met anyone who used shoelaces but I guess you could, if you tried …”

“No,” David interrupts him. “Do you know anything specific about shoelaces? About Matteo’s shoelaces, maybe?”

Rentier gets a pensive look on his face. “Let me see.”

He vanishes through one of the doors of the living room and returns a moment later with tiny shoes.

“These, if I remember it right, were Matteo’s shoes when he was little. Sabine kept them, of course, and at one point, they showed up here, no note or anything attached. I’ve always wondered what that was about. Maybe they can help you.” He hands them to me.

My baby shoes. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with those. I want to start searching them for clues immediately, but instead I thank him and put them away. David gets up.

“Thank you. We’ll go now,” he says curtly to Rentier. And when I don’t move, he does something he has never done before and pulls me up by my arm. It throws me out of the thoughts about my mum because what the hell is he doing? This is the third time he’s touching me today. We don’t touch each other, ever, that’s the rule. That’s what we stuck to for the last seven years. And now everything is different and we almost kissed last night and apparently we touch now. Casually. Like friends. I don’t quite know what to do with that.

He lets go of my arm immediately once I start to move though. And I almost miss his touch there. (Which is stupid.)

Rentier brings us to the door, thanking us for the visit and offering us a drag of his joint once again. David makes me say no a second time which is a pity. I wouldn’t mind smoking right now, if it helped make the mess in my head go away.

“Goodbye. Thanks for everything,” I say.

Rentier smiles at me again. I think he’s never not smiling. “Thank _you_ , Matteo. It was nice to finally meet you.”

He waves at us until we can’t see his hut anymore. It was light when we reached it but everything’s pitch black now. When David starts rummaging around in his jacket, I expect him to get out his wand, but instead, he takes out a flashlight and lights it. We walk through the woods in silence. I don’t know what I’d say to David right now, after everything Rentier told us, and I think he doesn’t either. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, either. It’s just silent. (Maybe that should be surprising, with us being enemies and all, but we’ve always done well with silence. It’s when one of us starts talking that the problems begin.)

I keep thinking about those photos of our mothers together and what Rentier said. _Best friends. Inseparable._ It's hard to imagine my mum, so kind and lovely, being best friends with someone like David’s mum. Not that I knew her but if she’s anything like David, I can’t picture her and my mum getting along at all. I wonder what she was like. I wonder if my mum was different when she was in school. If they’d still be friends today. I wonder how my life might have looked if I’d grown up being friends with David.

I’m so deep in my thoughts that I don’t notice when David stops dead in his tracks until I’m a good few feet ahead of him. He looks completely dumbfounded when I turn around. It’s only then that I notice we’re already at the train station.

“What is it?” I ask impatiently.

His voice is quiet when he says, “We missed the train.”

“So what? We’ll take the next one,” I laugh. What is he making such a fuss about?

David just looks at me with his tired (and yet somehow still condescending) look. “No. We missed the last train.”

I look at where he’s looking and, sure, on the display at the station it says very clearly: _06.34 York_. And nothing before.

“So what do we do?” I ask him. I am not exactly prepared for this.

But David only rolls his eyes and has already started typing something into his phone. He stays silent for a few moments and then he says, “There’s a hostel not far from here. It says here that they still have free rooms. We can sleep there and go back tomorrow morning.”

Is he really suggesting we just go to a hotel and get a room? The two of us, in one room? (That’s ridiculous. It’s not like we haven’t shared a room for the past seven and a half years. Or for the past few nights. Why does this feel so different?)

But I’m not about to spend my night at a train station. Especially with a semi-hungry vampire. (Instead, I’m spending my night in a _hotel room_ with a semi-hungry vampire. I can see Amira’s disapproving glance before my inner eyes.)

“Sure,” I shrug and let David lead the way. We arrive at the hostel in less than ten minutes. It’s run-down and not exactly the friendliest place, but it has to do. It’s not like we have much money, anyway. At least I don’t. Who knows how much money rich heir David carries around with him. I let him take the lead at the hotel too, book us a room and pay for it. I should feel guilty but now that I know how nice the flat looks where he lives with his sister, I don’t. He can clearly afford it.

“Come on,” he gestures towards me when he receives the keys and I follow him without even a second thought. I’m too exhausted to really think or plan or do anything. I’m glad at least one of us is still a functioning human being. (Vampire.) (Whatever.)

It would probably be polite of me to offer to pay half of the room. But I don’t offer and he doesn’t ask and so we walk in silence until David stops in front of a very ugly green door. He unlocks the room and it’s the first time that it hits me what we’re doing here. I’m about to spend a night in a hotel room, with David Schreibner, my mortal nemesis, evil vampire, could-definitely-kill-me-right-now-if-he-wanted-to. (Almost-kissed-me-two-nights-ago.)

But there’s no time to think on my stupidity further because when we enter the room, David exclaims, “Are you shitting me?”

At first, I don’t quite get what he’s so upset about (although the colour of the door is definitely reason enough to be upset) but then I see it too. There’s only one bed. One big double bed. Not even two beds you can push apart. Just the one.

Tentatively, I look at David. He looks pissed off, like this is the last thing he needs right now.

“We could ask them for a different room?,” I suggest. He looks at me like he’s about to murder me.

**David**

Fuck.

Why is there only one bed in this stupid hotel room? And why did Florenzi suggest asking for a different room? I can’t just say no to that but there’s a part of me (the part of me that’s increasingly taking up more space recently) that wants to risk it all and share a bed with Matteo Florenzi. Even if I know that won’t end well. I wouldn’t sleep at all and we’d probably end up fighting anyways.

Florenzi’s staring at me and I realise that he is still waiting for a reply from me. So I clear my throat and try to sound as confident as possible, “No, didn’t you see how full they were? I don’t think it’s worth it to ask for that.”

I’m really hoping that Florenzi didn’t pay attention to all the keys that were left because the hostel is definitely not full. But he doesn’t seem to notice.

Instead, he shrugs. “Sure. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

So I guess nothing about today is going according to plan. I feel awful letting him sleep on the floor but I also can’t say anything now. I’m walking on thin ice already. Besides, it’s not a bad idea to assert my authority again when it comes to Florenzi.

I don’t know what I expected, pillow talks or us spilling out all our deepest secrets, but Florenzi simply pulls one of the pillows off the bed and roots through the closet to find a thin wool blanket. I expected him to at least argue about the blanket on the bed, but he just makes himself comfortable on the floor and closes his eyes.

“Can you put out the lights when you’re done?” he says and then he’s silent.

So I follow his example and I get ready for bed.

**Matteo**

The floor is really fucking uncomfortable. Not that I’d ever say anything. Don’t be vulnerable in front of each other, that’s another unspoken rule between us. We’ve already come way too close to breaking it.

So I keep turning around, trying to find a more comfortable sleeping position and I try not to think about the fact that I’m sleeping in a room with David, in a hostel in the middle of nowhere, without the Anathema or other people here to protect me. He could kill me in my sleep if he wanted to. (I don’t really think he wants to. Not anymore.)

I don’t expect to hear anything from him, so I’m surprised when he sighs. He does it in a completely exaggerated way, making it abundantly clear that he’s annoyed with me.

“Just come sleep in the bed, Florenzi,” he says.

Is this a plot to murder me? Am I walking right into the devil’s lair if I join him on the bed?

When I don’t move, he sighs again. “Look, I don’t want to share a bed with you either, but I can’t sleep if you keep tossing around. Just come up here, for fuck’s sake. We don’t need to cuddle.”

I don’t know what makes me follow his words, but I get my pillow and my blanket and I climb into bed. I make sure not to come too close to him or touch him even remotely. I’m still not convinced he won’t murder me.

But I can hear his breathing and it’s weirdly calming. This is familiar. This is what my life has been like for the past seven years. He hasn’t murdered me yet.

**David**

Florenzi is asleep faster than I thought it was possible for a person to fall asleep. I’m tempted to watch him sleep because I’ve never slept this close to him and I doubt I can even fall asleep. But I’m more exhausted than I thought I was and even if I’m burning up inside, it’s nice to know him this close to me. I will never get to do this again and I want to savour every second of it but I’m too tired to keep my eyes open. So I fall asleep to the sounds of Florenzi snoring next to me.

I’m surprised to find the bed empty next to me when I open my eyes the next morning. At first, I think he’s in the bathroom, but a few minutes pass without any sound or movement and I start to think that he might have just run away. Woke up in the night and realised how absurd this entire situation is and just left. According to my phone, it’s shortly before seven, which means there’s been plenty of opportunity to get on a train. And I wouldn’t exactly blame him for wanting to get away from me.

Every bone in my body is hurting. I feel like I haven’t slept at all. I’m so hungry. More than anything, I’m thirsty. I haven’t drunk blood since Christmas Eve and I can feel that it’s taking a toll on me. And the mattress wasn’t comfortable at all.

But I get up and after I made sure I don’t look quite as terrible as I feel, I make my way to breakfast. Sure enough, Florenzi is there. By the looks of it, he’s eaten quite a bit of toast already and he doesn’t seem finished yet.

“Morning,” he says when he spots me. He sounds almost cheery. I have no idea what is going on.

“What has you looking like you’ve come right out of a Disney musical?” I ask him.

“We finally have some answers. We have somewhere to go from here,” he answers. I raise an eyebrow and he laughs and add,: “And I can eat as much butter as I want and there’s no one here to judge me.”

“I’m here.” I raise my eyebrow further.

“Oh, you don’t count,” he dismisses me.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” I don’t feel like I can stomach anything right now, but I can’t let Florenzi see that so I force myself to eat a bit of toast.

“You don’t count because you’d judge my eating habits anyway. So it’s not real. It doesn’t count if you judge me for eating too much butter.” He looks so convinced of himself when he says it. Like he’s thought it through and it’s truly what he believes.

I can’t help a tiny laugh escaping me because it’s truly ridiculous. This entire situation is ridiculous. We met up with Florenzi’s crazy, high uncle yesterday and then we spent the night in a hotel that could come straight out of a horror movie and now we’re eating toast and it’s all fun and peaceful as if we’re friends or something. It feels like I’ve stumbled into some alternate reality. Like one of my delusional fantasies from sixth year. (The alternate reality where our mothers stayed friends and we grew up together and became best friends and promised each other we’d marry each other which ultimately resulted in Florenzi realising that he has always been head over heels for me. Ridiculous.)

But it’s nice in a way, I have to admit that. A very new kind of nice. Like maybe, we really could have been friends, if the circumstances had been different. That’s a stupid thought. There’s no universe in which Florenzi and I were ever going to be friends.

I let myself enjoy it for a moment though. Having breakfast with Matteo Florenzi, him telling me about the football game they showed on TV before I turned up and how it was terrible, really terrible, and the commentator didn’t even understand what he was talking about.

And then enough is enough. When Florenzi has finished his last toast (even thinking about how many he has eaten makes me feel sick), I stand up abruptly and declare my desperate need to get home.

There’s something moving about his face and for a moment, I let myself indulge in the thought that it might be disappointment (ridiculous) but then I shake it off and just stare at him until he gets up too.

We wait for the train back to York in silence. I don’t know what to say to Florenzi. We found out so much yesterday and yet we still know nothing. All we have are baby shoes from Florenzi. How are these supposed to help us? Florenzi is all silence too now. He doesn’t even want to buy more sandwiches for the way back.

When we’re on the second train, the one taking us back home, he keeps staring at me.

“What?” I ask eventually.

“What are you always listening to?” he wants to know.

I think about just ignoring him for a moment. Or giving him a wrong answer, like saying that I’m listening to German rap or One Direction. It’s what I would have done, back before this whole thing started. But everything is different now. So I offer him one of my headphones and I let him in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had a ridiculous amount of both pov switches and tropes but oh well. Sometimes that's just what a fic needs, I guess. I hope you enjoyed and see you in two weeks!


	8. Chapter Seven: Breaking My Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Seven: Memories, lesbian wisdom, fangs, football pitches and peace. 
> 
> You probably recognise where the title of this chapter is from but in case you didn’t, it’s from “Clean Eyes” by SYML. 
> 
> There’s a scene in here that’s dedicated to my dear friend Naz. You’ll know which one once you get to it. 
> 
> Slight heads-up: There’s a (vampire-related) mention of a deer being harmed later in the chapter but it’s really just a small comment, no description or anything.

**Chapter Seven: Breaking My Chains**

**Matteo**

Watford in January is beautiful. The grounds are covered in snow, the air is clear, on good days even the sun is shining. It looks like pure magic. (It _is_ pure magic.)

The first thing Jonas and I did when we got back after break was have a proper snowball fight. To our big surprise, Carlos and Abdi asked if they could join. Then, Hanna joined in too when she saw us. She and Jonas started dating shortly before break and they’ve been unbearably cute ever since. I expected to feel a pang in my heart every time I see them together. But nothing happens. I’m just happy for them.

I was a bit nervous about returning to Watford. David and I had finally gotten to the point where we could be civil with each other, not feeling like we had to tear each other’s throats out whenever we saw each other. I think Christmas break ruined it.

When we got back from Rentier, things were slightly awkward between us. Maybe it was the fact that we’d spent a night sleeping in the same bed or that learning all that stuff about our mothers left us both weirdly emotional. Or it had something to do with the fact that David let me listen to his music and that felt strangely intimate. Either way, we got back to Laura’s flat and we spent the next day largely ignoring each other and then Hans, Linn and I went back to our own flat. The rest of break was spent mostly on the sofa, playing video games and occasionally talking to Jonas and Amira.

The baby shoes Rentier gave me turned out to be just that: baby shoes. “They’re kind of adorable, aren’t they?” David had said when we’d had some time to look at them properly. But they were nothing more than adorable. No secret message hidden inside of them, no words stitched into the fabric, nothing. Just shoes.

David wanted to tear the shoelaces apart immediately but I stopped him. Instead, I made him try different spells to find out whether there was anything hidden within them. He didn’t have any success and then he suggested that it might be protected by blood magic and I should try. But when I said no, he just didn’t mention it again. He left me alone after that. There’s been a lot of silence between us ever since Christmas break.

I’m just starting to feel like things are returning to normal, with me not doing my schoolwork and Amira scolding me for it (though she’s surprisingly nice about it ever since break) and Jonas and me smoking weed before classes to Hanna’s disdain and having to spend too much time with Sara while Leonie looks at me with her murder look. I’ve gotten so close to finding my mother but all the signs I got that she was somewhere out there waiting for me to find her lead nowhere and so I’m close to giving up.

Until I cut myself on my spell book while studying one afternoon and a tiny drop of blood falls onto the baby shoes that are lying around somewhere in the chaos of my desk. I’m not sure what’s happening but there’s a glow around them, emanating from the place the blood touched them. And then it’s all around me. It feels a bit like a hug from my mum. But it’s over far too fast. I don’t notice anything different at first. I’m still me. I’m still here. David is staring at me from across the room and it still gives me goose bumps.

“What was that?” he asks.

I’m not sure I have an answer to that. It’s like something in my head but I know it’s also real. Like suddenly, there’s a memory in my head that wasn’t there before. A memory that isn’t mine.

It’s all blurry. It’s hard to decipher what is happening. But there’s my mum, I’m sure of that. A young version of her. And she’s talking to someone, a young boy. A teenager.

They’re fighting.

“What’s going on?” David asks again. He’s standing in front of me now. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s worried.

“It’s a memory,” I explain. “A memory of my mum. She’s talking to a boy about something. I think she’s angry at him.” It’s so confusing. I never noticed how weird memories are until I experienced one that wasn’t mine.

“That’s a really powerful spell,” David says. His voice is filled with awe. “I’ve never met anyone who could do that. Your mum is like a super magician or something.”

Like I was supposed to be, I think. Except I’m everything but.

David keeps staring so I try to explain more: “He wanted to do something, some magic … he wanted to do it to a child.” It’s becoming clearer in my head now.

“What? What did he want to do?” David is so close to me. I can see every single one of his lashes. It’s not exactly helping me concentrate.

“I don’t know, it’s all blurry. Something bad. Dangerous.” He’s staring at me so intently. I have to close my eyes, to be able to focus on my mum’s memory at all. “It was an experiment. He wanted to try something, something with magic … to make the child more powerful.”

When I look at David’s face, I know we’re both thinking the same. It has to be. There’s no other explanation. But neither of us is saying anything. What do you say to that?

**David**

“I need a smoke,” Florenzi announces. Just like that. He just saw a memory of his mum talking to someone about doing magic to a child, to _him_ , and his first reaction is to smoke. He’s truly unbearable.

But before I know it, he’s rolled a joint and lit it. I want to tell him not to smoke in the room. (Even though I know he does it all the time. He tries to cover it up with neutrality spells but they never work.) I don’t. Not after this.

He takes a drag and then offers me the joint. I’ve only ever smoked once before. Carlos and Abdi convinced me to try and I hated every second of it and swore to never do it again. But it’s Matteo offering me and it feels like a peace offering. I can’t just say no.

He laughs when I cough after the first drag.

“First time?” he asks.

“No,” I say defensively.

Florenzi shrugs and grins at me like he doesn’t believe me. We stay like that for a while, sitting on the floor of our room in silence, smoking and thinking. I don’t know what he’s thinking about but I’m racking my brains trying to come up with an explanation for what is happening. It feels like we’re on the edge of a huge void, just steps away of opening up history and uncovering everything that is going wrong in our world. Just steps away from falling into the void and being lost to this mystery forever.

“Do you want to listen to music?” Florenzi asks suddenly.

“Sure,” I answer and gesture for him to put some on. I showed him mine. It’s only fair if he chooses this time.

I don’t register what he’s doing until the first chords play and I immediately recognise the song. He’s not playing music from his phone. He’s playing music from _mine_. He must see the horror on my face because he looks at me and can’t stop laughing. This has to be the most embarrassing moment of my life.

“What _is_ that?” he asks, still laughing. It’s a stupid song, really stupid. I know it is. I know I should listen to better music. It just makes me stupidly happy sometimes.

I want to tell him that I don’t know the song. Or that Laura put it on my playlist. Or that someone threatened me with a knife and forced me to listen to it.

But I settle for “It’s ironic.”

Florenzi shakes his head at me. He won’t stop laughing. (If it takes exposing him to my horrible music taste to make him laugh, I’ll happily show him every single song on that playlist.) Then, he does the last thing I expect him to do. He starts dancing.

“It’s not bad,” he says.

“It’s horrible,” I reply. It really, really is. I just think it’s a fun song, is all.

“It’s on _your_ playlist,” he grins at me.

I roll my eyes but it’s hard to pretend to be annoyed when Florenzi is goofing around right after he uncovered one of my dark secrets. This is nice. This is what I’ve missed ever since we returned to Watford after Christmas break.

Eventually, the song ends and the next one that plays isn’t half as horrible, so Florenzi sits down next to me again.

“What kind of music do you think the Mage listens to?” I ask him. I don’t know why I’m thinking of the Mage now. Or why I’m bringing him up. I know Florenzi and I have very different opinions of him.

“Probably classical music or something,” Florenzi answers. “Some boring shit.”

“Did you just call him boring?” I raise an eyebrow.

Florenzi just rolls his eyes and stays silent. But not for long.

“The Mage,” he sighs. “I can’t stand him. He’s so annoying and vain. He never even helps me! Who does that? Tell your 15-year old student he has to fight a dragon on his own?”

I didn’t think Florenzi thought that low of the Mage. I thought he still worshipped him, like he did when he was 11. But it’s true. The Mage has put Matteo through unimaginable things. I didn’t know he was still thinking about that dragon after three years.

He sighs again and then lets himself slide to the floor, closing his eyes. Does that mean the conversation is over? Does that mean we’ll go back to ignoring each other? Or searching for his mum, now that we know a tiny bit more?

I try not to stare at Florenzi. Even if his eyes are closed, he’ll probably notice me staring and ask questions. But I can’t help myself. I’ll just blame it on the weed.

Suddenly, he sits upright. “Stefan!” he exclaims.

“What?” I ask. I have no idea what he’s on about.

“Stefan,” he repeats. “The boy she was talking to, his name was _Stefan_.”

“And?” I don’t understand anything. What is he talking about?

“And that means it’s the Mage!” He sounds like he just solved a murder.

“Okay?” I still don’t get it.

Florenzi looks at me with wide eyes. Then, he seems to realise that I need a bit more explanation than that. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” _What_ is happening?

“That the Mage is called Stefan!” He looks at me like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“The Mage is called Stefan?” I can’t help myself, I burst into giggles. It’s such a mundane name. Nothing special, nothing magickal about it.

But Florenzi looks at me, his eyes wide. “Concentrate!”

I burst into giggles again. Why is everything so funny? But Florenzi is so serious. I’ve never seen him so serious.

“It’s the Mage,” he repeats.

I try to pull myself together. “What is the Mage?”

“The boy. In the memory.” Florenzi swallows. “The boy my mum was talking to, who wanted to do something with magic. It’s the Mage.”

“The Mage is not a boy,” I answer. This doesn’t make sense. Why would the Mage tamper with Matteo’s magic? (It makes perfect sense. The Mage is a power-hungry, insane madman.)

“But he was back then. Don’t you realise? It all fits.” Florenzi sounds all distant, like he’s talking to me from behind a curtain or a wall.

It _does_ make sense. The Mage wanted a chosen one, someone to become a symbol, someone to be the face of the new world he wanted to build. And he chose Florenzi.

“I, um,” Florenzi is shaking. “I need some space.”

And just like that, he gets up and leaves.

**Matteo**

My head is spinning. I didn’t expect to find out anything more about my mum and now it feels like I’ve just started uncovering everything that has happened to get me to this point in my life. The Mage is the reason why I’m the way I am. He’s the reason my magic is all weird, too much and too powerful and impossible to control. He’s the reason I’m all wrong.

“Hey, Matteo!” I can hear someone shout out from behind me. It takes me a moment to place the voice.

A panting Laura comes up to me.

“Hi?” I say to her. What is she doing here? There’s a distant memory of David telling me she was coming to visit but I didn’t realise it was today. I don’t know why she’s talking to me.

“Hey,” she repeats. “You left this at my place over Christmas.” I only now notice that she’s holding something in her hand. When I take it from her, I see that it’s one of my shirts. I didn’t even notice it was missing.

“Thanks,” I say. I’m about to turn away but Laura keeps looking at me with a too alert look in her eyes. “Is there anything else?” I ask.

Laura sighs. “Are you alright, Matteo?” she asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Why is David Schreibner’s sister asking me how I am?

She shakes her head. “I just … you look a bit agitated. Look, you don’t have to tell me what’s going on. I just wanted to ask if everything is okay.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say. And then, because she’s here and she’s sincerely asking and there’s nothing to lose, I correct myself. “I mean, not really. Everything’s just … upside down.”

She looks at me, signalling to me to go on. I wish I could tell her everything, tell her what I just found out and ask her how to deal with that. She seems like the kind of person who’d have an answer. But I can’t tell her.

“I just mean … why does it have to be so complicated?” I sigh. I didn’t mean to ask that. It won’t even make sense to her. But she came to me and asked me how I am and she has no idea what I’m talking about, so she may be the only person I can talk to about this. I’ve also realised over Christmas that I don’t hate her at all. I guess I’m incapable of hating any of the Schreibners.

She looks at me with a kind look in her eyes. Like she knows exactly what I’m feeling. Which she can’t, not really, because she has no idea about my mother or Rentier or the Mage. Unless David has told her. Which he also couldn’t because we just found out.

“I know it can be hard, Matteo. To fully embrace yourself. To be who you are, unapologetically. But I need you to know that you’re exactly who you’re supposed to be.” She smiles at me, that knowing smile of hers.

I laugh. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing when she’s saying that. I’m nothing like who I’m supposed to be. But that’s a line I won’t cross. I won’t talk about being the Chosen One with Laura Schreibner.

“It would be so much easier though, if I was just …”, I don’t finish the sentence. There’s so many ways to end it. _If I was just a normal mage. If I was just good at magic. If I was just straight_ , is what Laura thinks I’m saying. If she wants to talk about being gay, I’m fine with it. It’s not like I can’t use her advice in that department.

Laura looks me in the eyes and I feel like she’s staring straight into my soul. Then she takes my hand. I repress the urge to pull it away immediately. She’s not evil, I remind myself.

“Your life will be full of joy you cannot even imagine”, she says. “I’m not saying it won’t be hard sometimes. It will be. But there’s nothing wrong with who you are. You just need to make sure to do what you want to do. Don’t let anyone else dictate your life.”

It’s not the advice I wanted to ask her for, but it’s nice advice. It’s nice to hear her talk like that. It was nice to see her and Linn so happy together at Christmas.

“Thank you, Laura,” I say sincerely. She nods, a little awkwardly, and then tells me she’ll go look for David.

I wait a bit, until I’m sure David has left our room and gone who-knows-where with Laura. Then, I go back and repress the urge to crawl into bed and just sleep. Instead, I light another joint and smoke until I’ve calmed down.

Then, I search through my drawer until I’ve found what I’ve been looking for. I take up the crumbled paper. It has replaced my mum’s letter in my head. Where I used to reread and reread her letter, I now spend hours staring at the drawing I found in David’s room. (Which is probably really vain, considering it’s a drawing of, well, me.)

I think back to Christmas Day, to how David spent all day baking cookies with me and how nice it felt to get along. I think about that moment on the attic, where we got way too close and I’m pretty sure he was about to kiss me. I think about sleeping in the same bed as him when we were in Scarborough and how it felt like everything was falling into place. Everything is falling into place now.

David’s stares and insults and distance. All the pulling away, whenever it finally felt like we were getting somewhere. All the times he suddenly left me alone when I was feeling bad. I always thought that was just a coincidence, the universe looking out for me, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he noticed. Maybe he cares. Maybe he’s cared about me all along.

I look at the drawing again and I finally figure out why it looks weird. It doesn’t look like a drawing made by my enemy at all. It looks like whoever drew it sees right through me. It makes me feel seen, in a way that I’m not used to. It takes a minute to sink in, that thought. The realisation that everything my life was built on for almost eight years wasn’t true at all. And the most surprising thing about this whole thing is that I don’t mind one bit.

I can’t draw for shit but if I made a drawing of David, I think it would look something like this. I know every detail of his face by heart. I want to know where he is every minute of the day, not because I’m scared of him but because I need him to be safe. I’m never not thinking about him, about what he’s doing, how he’s feeling, what he’s thinking about me. No matter how much the world gets me down, being in this room with David there never fails to make me feel at home. That’s not how you feel about your nemesis at all. 

I’m undeniably, absolutely in love with David. I’ve known for a while now. I just haven’t _known_. Or didn’t want to, I guess. Because it means I’m gay. Because it makes everything so much more complicated. Because it means I’m in love with the guy I spent the last eight years fighting.

Fuck. I need to break up with Sara.

…

It takes me a day to get my head in order and build up the courage to go talk to Sara. I ignore David that night, when he returns from his day with Laura. Even if it’s really hard to ignore him, now that I know he doesn’t hate me at all. But I need to sort out everything first.

I’m on my way to Sara when I come across Amira and her girls. Sam and Hanna are having a snowball fight while Mia, Amira and Kiki are building a snowwoman. By the looks of it, there’s quite a lot of magic going on.

“Hey, Matteo!” Amira calls out when she sees me. Slightly reluctantly, I go over to her. “What do you think of her?” she asks me proudly when I reach the snowwoman.

“She’s great.” She really is. Taller than all of us, with what looks like a cape draped over her shoulders and flowing out behind her.

“I just love magic,” Kiki sighs happily as she’s looking at the girls’ creation with us.

“She’s beautiful,” Amira says proudly. She’s so happy. She’s been so happy for weeks.

There’s something going on with her. She’s all kinds of secretive since Christmas break. Always sneaking off and writing down stuff and refusing to tell us what she’s doing. I’m sure something happened during break. Something that makes her happy and giddy, not at all what I’m used to from her.

I almost ask, when Sam throws a snowball my way and asks, “Hey, do you want to join?”

“No, I have something to do,” I excuse myself. I should really get going anyways. So I leave the girls and make my way towards Sara’s house.

When I’m there, I throw a snowball up towards Sara and Leonie’s window. An angry Leonie appears and shouts down, “Don’t do that again, arsehole!”

Then, Sara appears next to her. “It’s fine, don’t listen to Leonie. What did you want?”

“Can we talk?” I shout upwards. I would have just gone up but Leonie spelt their room sometime in sixth grade so people can only enter it with an explicit invitation. She never invites me in.

“Sure, I’ll come down,” Sara answers and smiles at me. I can’t read her face at all. Is she happy to see me? Angry at me because of Christmas or something else I’ve done wrong in the meantime? I can never tell with her.

She appears at the door a few minutes later, wrapped in her winter cloak. “Should we take a walk?” she suggests.

I nod and we start walking in silence. How do I even start this conversation? How do I break up with her? For a guy, nonetheless. For the guy I spent the last few years complaining about to her.

To my surprise, Sara is the one who says, “I need to tell you something.” She sounds nervous.

“Sure. What is it?” I ask her. I’m not really focusing on her, thinking more about how to tell her I’ve fallen in love with David, but when she doesn’t say anything for a while, I turn around to her.

She looks almost scared. Like she’s bracing herself for what she’s about to say.

I …” she draws a breath, “I kissed Leonie.”

I don’t know how to react to that. I came here to break up with her because I’m gay and now she’s the one breaking up with me because _she_ ’s gay?

So I say the stupidest possible thing that comes to my mind. “Why?”

She blinks. “Because I wanted to.” She sounds so certain. Like she knows exactly what she wants.

“So you’re gay?” I ask. Maybe I should have seen it coming. With all their stares and Sara acting weird for weeks now.

“I don’t know.” She looks at me with uncertainty in her eyes. “I just know …” she laughs a little, “I just know I like Leonie. _Really_ like her. Isn’t that enough?”

I shrug. Then, because suddenly it’s so much easier to say, “I’m gay.”

Sara smiles. “I know.”

I blink at her. “You do?”

“Yes. I’ve known for a while. I just … well, I didn’t want to see it at first, I guess. Because I liked you and I liked being in a relationship with you. And then,” she smiles almost wistfully, “I think a part of me was hoping that you’d break up with me, so I didn’t have to do it. Staying with you was safe, you know? Nothing serious would ever come of it and I could pretend I wasn’t in love with Leonie.” She’s still smiling.

“So you’re dating now?” I ask.

Sara shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ll have to figure it out, I guess. I mean, she likes me too, so I think … we’ll probably date, yes.”

“I’m happy for you,” I say. I mean it. I’m happy for her. She deserves someone who likes her, truly likes her. Someone like Leonie.

“Thank you,” she smiles. “I hope you find someone like that too.”

I almost tell her that I have, tell her about David, but I don’t. It’s not really the same with us. It’s nowhere near as easy.

“I … I have to go do something,” I tell her. I don’t wait for her answer before I turn back around.

When I return to our room, David isn’t there. The one time I really needed him to be there, he’s not. Of course he’s not. I try to wait for him to return, have a little bit of patience, but I can’t help getting up and walking in circles whenever I’ve just managed to get up. It’s like something inside of me is restless, not letting me sit or lie or just calm down. I feel like I need to tell him _right now_. Right this minute, or I’ll never do it.

So I grab my coat that’s still wet from just having been outside and I leave our room again. I look for him on the pitch but he’s nowhere to be seen. He’s nowhere near the catacombs either. (He used to go there all the time, back in sixth grade. I don’t know what he did down there. Probably some weird vampire ritual.) I finally turn towards the forest. I don’t like being in there. It’s too dark and too wet at this time of year. And it reminds me of all the times the Humdrum led me in there to make me fight monsters. They’re not exactly happy memories.

But I _have_ to find David. I _have_ to tell him. It feels like it’s as necessary as breathing or walking or, as much as I hate doing it, thinking. If I don’t tell him soon, I might die.

I don’t need to go far into the forest. I’ve only walked for about five minutes, the darkness all absorbing around me, when I come across a clearing with some weak strands of moonlight shining through the trees. And there he is. He’s crouching, as if he’s looking for something.

When he hears my footsteps, he turns around.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” David hisses. He’s not looking for something. He’s bent over a deer. There’s a bit of blood in one corner of his mouth. Two fangs are clearly visible.

I was right all along. He’s a vampire.

**David**

So he finally caught me. He’s been trying to do this for three years and, finally, he caught me in the act. Drinking blood. He has absolute proof I’m a vampire now.

I expect him to say something. Tell me he always knew. Tell me I’m evil. Go tell the Mage or his friends or someone else that he was right all along. But he doesn’t. He just keeps looking at me.

“Does it hurt?” he asks after a while.

“What?” Does what hurt? Being a vampire? Drinking blood? The knowledge that I’m a disgrace to the magickal world?

“The fangs. Does it hurt when they appear?” I want to laugh. He just caught me drinking blood, after years of trying to get me, and that’s what he’s burning to ask?

I roll my eyes. “No, it doesn’t hurt, Florenzi.”

“They’re big,” he says. “They look really sharp.”

“Well, they are,” I reply. Why isn’t he screaming or trying to stake me through the heart or get rid of me with holy water? Why is he just looking at me, with so much curiosity in his eyes?

When he doesn’t say anything else and the silence becomes awkward, I point towards the deer and tell him, “I was kind of in the middle of something, so …”

“Yes. Sorry.” He nods. He’s still staring but after a minute, he turns around and walks away awkwardly. I need drink more blood (I haven’t drunk nearly enough yet) but I have to force myself to. I’ve lost all my appetite.

Once I’m done, I wander around the forest a bit. It’s already dark but Florenzi will still be awake and I don’t want to have to talk to him or explain myself. Instead, I try to stay out here for as long as I can. (If only it wasn’t so damn cold. Couldn’t he have caught me in April?)

I end up on the football pitch eventually, taking out a ball and kicking it around aimlessly. I’m letting my thoughts wander, to all the good things. Laura’s visit yesterday and the fact that I’m not hungry anymore and how nice it felt to get along with Florenzi again when we were high together.

Being on the pitch at night is a weird kind of calming. It feels like it’s just me, the moon and the ball. Nobody here to judge me or tell me off or make me feel evil. No one here to mess with my feelings and make me believe that maybe, I’m someone you could fall in love with after all. 

I thought things might return to normal after Christmas break. I thought Matteo and I might return to normal. I almost wanted that. It’s so much easier than _this_. (Always getting too close and pulling away again and doubting everything that just happened. Always letting myself hope.)

Everything that happened was stupid. It just made me believe that something, anything, might happen. Of course it won’t. Nothing will ever come of this.

“David!” A voice calls out. I’d recognise it anywhere. Florenzi has always pronounced my name differently than anyone else I know.

Now, he’s coming towards me.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For earlier, I mean. I just didn’t expect …”

“I thought you knew,” I tell him.

He laughs a little. “I did. I just didn’t … I didn’t think I’d _see_ it.”

“How long until the Mage has me arrested?” I ask.

Florenzi’s face falls. He looks at me with something that almost looks like disappointment. Angry disappointment.

“I didn’t tell the Mage. Why would I?”

“Oh, I don’t know, because you hate me? Because you were out to get me ever since you suspected?” It’s unfair. I know that’s not how things are anymore. Florenzi even told me that he feels pressured by the Mage.

“I don’t … that’s not …” He looks hurt now. After a moment, his expression shifts. “Everything’s different now, right? What was before doesn’t matter, it’s just … we’re … Well, I don’t know what we are. But I’d like to … I think I … but it’s not that easy, because we’re enemies, right? But I’m not sure we are anymore …”

He’s stumbling over his words but it’s like he can’t stop talking. I’ve never heard him talk that much.

“I just mean … you’re a vampire, _a vampire_ , and … and you play football! And we’re really not friends, I mean we hate each other, we always have but … Christmas! What was Christmas? And we slept in the same bed. And Rentier called you my boyfriend, which is ridiculous, of course but … maybe I … not that … I just mean …”

“Can you stop for a moment?” I finally interrupt him. “Because you came here and disturbed my practice and I have no idea what is happening and I’d really like an explanation!”

He stares at me with too wide eyes and a question in his eyes, so I sigh exasperatedly. (Just to make a point. So he knows I’m bored and don’t want to be here at all, even if the truth is that I always want to be near him.)

His answer is unexpected. “I broke up with Sara.”

“Okay?” I reply. As if my heart didn’t make a tiny joyful jump at those news. It doesn’t mean anything. He just got bored of his perfect girlfriend, is all.

He looks at me like I’m not getting it.

“I broke up with Sara,” he repeats.

“Yeah, I know that. You just said that.” I roll my eyes. (To cover up the fact that I really, really want to know more.)

He shakes his head and he sighs as if he’s actually upset at me. So I give in, just a little, and look into his eyes. I don’t know what he wants from me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d attempt to murder me because he’s upset about Sara and needs a way to get his emotions out. Then again, he did almost kiss me at Christmas. That has to count for something, right?

Florenzi shakes his head at me. And then he shakes it again. And then he’s suddenly standing in front of me, way closer than he was before. This is not a distance at which friends stand from each other. (It still might be for murder, though. He’s definitely close enough to murder me and I would not even flinch because Matteo Florenzi is standing right in front of me and I’m completely frozen.)

I’m sure I’ve made a complete idiot of myself by now and there’s nothing to salvage here, but I still pull myself together and manage to ask: “What are you doing?”

**Matteo**

I don’t know what I’m doing.

I’m way too close to David. Way, way too close. But he’s not moving. He hasn’t turned away yet. Something tells me that he won’t.

Instead, he’s staring at me and for once, he’s not protecting his feelings as well as he usually does. I think he wants this. I think he wants it just as much as I do. Maybe more.

So I don’t think. Instead, I take him by the face.

**David**

I thought I would never get to kiss Matteo Florenzi. I thought it would stay a thing of my dreams for the rest of my life. That I’d eventually find someone else and never be truly happy with them because they wouldn’t be Matteo.

Kissing Matteo Florenzi has to compete against four years of daydreams and actual dreams and somehow, it’s better than all of them. He’s better than all of them.

In my dreams, kissing Matteo was always passionate and filled with all the pent-up desire from years of living together and not getting to do this. Reality is the opposite. It’s slow and nice and lovely. Like we’re just starting to figure it out. Like we have all the time in the world to do that.

**Matteo**

I was right. David is a spectacular kisser.

This is what kissing is supposed to feel like. I’m sure of that. Nothing in my life has ever felt this right.

I spent a lot of time trying not to think about the fact that I wanted to kiss boys. That I wanted to kiss David. I tried to tell myself that I wanted to be with Sara. (Not that I’ve believed in that for a long time.)

I feel lighter than I have in years. There’s still everything with my mum and the Mage that we have to figure out. There’s still the fact that David and I are mortal enemies, fated to fight each other one day. There’s still so many things that make this complicated and hard. But I don’t care. We can figure it out later. Right now, David’s skin is warm under my hands and he’s smiling against my lips and I can’t help myself from smiling too.

I want to kiss David Schreibner for the rest of my life. So I do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! This chapter was a joy to write. I hope you enjoyed it too.
> 
> The song Matteo and David were listening to, in my head, is Senorita by Kay One. Maybe the Korean version, because David is pretentious like that. (That one was for you, Naz.) But of course, it can be any song you want it to be!


	9. Chapter Eight: It's Not a Race to the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the delay with this chapter. Life caught up with me and forced me to write a bachelor thesis in a month and then I had a bit of a hard time finding my way back to this fic. But it’s finally here! 
> 
> Chapter Eight: Disgusting amounts of fluff, skipping class, the joys of friendships, late presents, emptiness. 
> 
> Updates should be more regular again from now on. I’m still aiming for a new chapter once a week but I’ll just embrace the chaos and not tell you a day that I won’t stick to in the end. So new chapters whenever but hopefully soon. (I really mean that this time.)
> 
> This chapter is more or less full fluff, no plot. I personally find it disgusting but it was also a lot of fun to write. I hope it doesn’t make you feel too lonely. 
> 
> The chapter title is, you probably recognised it, from “You’re Somebody Else.” We all cry now. 
> 
> Finally, this chapter is dedicated to my dear friend Sveta who somehow always makes me feel like I’m worthy of calling myself a writer. Thank you for being so supportive and enthusiastic about this fic.

**Chapter Eight: It’s Not a Race to the End**

**Matteo**

David is still sleeping, which is unlike him. I’m usually the one who sleeps in late and he’s the one who gets up and goes running or does some other stuff I don’t want to know about. But now he’s sleeping and he looks so … peaceful.

I never get to watch him like this. When he’s calm and at peace and all the things that I know are constantly bothering him can’t get to him.

He’s not a monster. Or a villain. He’s just a boy. A lovely boy that I am definitely, definitely into.

He _is_ a vampire though. I knew that already but it’s still different to _know_. Not that it bothers me. I don’t think it does. I saw him drink blood yesterday and then I made out with him all night long. I wasn’t disgusted or scared or anything anymore. I don’t think he’d bite me anymore. Not after last night.

David finally stirs.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs. He still has his eyes closed and he sounds sleepier than I’ve ever heard him, but I think there’s a tiny smile on his lips.

“Am not,” I counter. Just because I can. It’s not like there’s any way to hide how I feel now.

“Yes, you are.” He’s opening his eyes now and I’m trying very hard not to stare at them. Now that I can.

“And what if I am?” I grin.

He smiles, properly now. “Can’t blame you for that, I’m very handsome.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” I shove him. This is all new territory. Flirting and being open. Though I guess it’s also familiar somehow. We’ve always been teasing each other relentlessly.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re very handsome too, Florenzi.” David says it like he means it.

I don’t know where to proceed from that, so what comes out is: “You called me Matteo before.”

“I did not,” he protests. He most definitely did. Lying bastard. We kissed on the pitch and then we made our way back to our room, so slow that I thought we’d never arrive (because we couldn’t keep our hands off each other), and then we made out all through the night. And he kept calling me Matteo.

I decide to let him get off the hook this one time. Instead, I lean over his face and when he doesn’t flinch, I kiss him. Part of me was scared that he wouldn’t let me do this anymore. That he’d realise he’d made a mistake yesterday and pretend nothing ever happened. But he lets me. It’s just as good as it has been every time we’ve kissed. I can’t believe I could’ve had this for years and instead I wasted my time pretending to be into Sara.

I asked him, last night. When we’d finally gotten back to our room and pushed our beds together after somehow, without even talking about it, deciding that we weren’t just going to sleep into our separate beds after everything. We were lying there, facing each other, and I asked him how long he’d wanted this.

He didn’t answer, of course. He tried to make me forget about the questions by kissing me. (I can’t exactly say that he failed.) But now, after he’s spent the night in my arms and we’re waking up together and he’s looking at me, he says, “Forever.”

I don’t get it at first.

“I’ve wanted this forever,” he explains.

“That’s impossible,” I tell him. Because I wasn’t prepared for this answer. Because I’m bad with feelings and I don’t want him to notice what this means to me.

He rolls his eyes. “ _You_ ’re impossible.” He’s staring at me again. I never noticed how much David stares at me. He’s doing it all the time now.

“Impossibly good-looking and brilliant,” I counter. He doesn’t even disagree. Just looks at me, the way he’s been looking at me since yesterday evening. Like he’s not trying to hide anymore. I don’t know what to do with that.

That’s my main feeling right now. Being overwhelmed with how all of this feels. It’s new and exciting and somehow it’s also … not. Being with David isn’t that different from being his nemesis. There’s a lot of fighting, even if it’s with pillows instead of swords and words. There’s making fun of each other, except in a more cheeky and less serious way. There’s more laughing and being free around each other. 

And the kissing. That’s new. (It’s decidedly my favourite part of being with David. Or maybe the actually talking about stuff is. Or feeling so understood. Really, almost everything is my favourite part of being with him.)

But it doesn’t feel that different from before. David has always been a big part of my life. When you live with each other the way we do, you learn to become comfortable around each other. I could never imagine my life without David, even if I’m only realising that now. This is different from what I imagined but it’s a thousand times better. If I’d known it could be like this, _we_ could be like this … I don’t know what I would have done.

But I know now that David is not the villain in my story. He never was. He could never be a villain in this story, in any story. He’s still pretending that he’s all tough and a bad guy but I see right through him now. He’s not even trying to hide how happy this makes him, not really. I’ve never seen him like this before. All smiling and laughing and looking at me like I’m hanging the moon in the sky every night. Unable to keep his hands off me. (Not that I’m much better.)

It’s like something broke and now everything he has been holding back is spilling over and it’s almost too much, it’s almost drowning me, but it’s not. It’s lovely. It makes me feel all warm inside. I haven’t felt like this in ages.

**David**

The next few days are a haze. Florenzi and I spend them largely in our room, lying on our beds. Talking and kissing and occasionally smoking weed and eating pizza. Being close. Like now that we can, now that we’ve both admitted that this is what we want, we need to spend every second together to make up for the last seven years. It’s wonderful. It’s everything I’ve wanted from the moment I first saw Florenzi. It’s scary as fuck.

He’s so open with me. He keeps looking at me how he never has before. With all his feelings laid bare, like he’s trusting me with them. Because he does. He trusts me now. He genuinely _likes_ me.

Whenever I thought about being with Florenzi, I imagined how hot making out would be or how nice it would be to be able to stare at him without having to disguise it behind a scowl. I thought about talking to him in a normal voice instead of my special, making-fun-of-Florenzi-voice, and how we would listen to music together and do our homework while we’re both in the room, peacefully. But what I wasn’t prepared for is what it’s like to feel loved. It makes my skin crawl. (In a good way. I think.)

Florenzi even gets me to skip class on Monday. I’ve never skipped class before. I don’t know what I wouldn’t do for him, if he asked. I don’t know where I’d draw the line.

But I try not to think about that, about how much it scares me. This is good, this right here. Lying in bed next to Florenzi, wearing his sweater because I’m always cold and he’s always hot and when I said I was freezing, he just gave it to me. Just like that. He keeps doing things _just like that_. Like they’re normal. Self-evident. Of course I’m here with the boy I’m in love with and he likes me back and keeps showing me that he does. Why would that ever be weird or unusual?

That’s how Florenzi makes me feel. Like this is the natural course our lives were destined to take and it’s the most normal thing in the world to be here beside him and listen to his heartbeat and marvel at how alive he is. He makes me feel like I’m alive too. And like I’m okay. 

…

Somehow, Florenzi gets me to tell him all my secrets. I don’t hide the fact that I’ve wanted him for a long time or the fact that my relationship to my father isn’t the best or the fact that I’m a vampire (there’s no use hiding that anyway, when he’s seen it with his own eyes).

“What happened?” He wants to know. He’s asked before. I don’t know what’s different but this time, I don’t scare him off. I want to tell him.

“My mum was brilliant. She fought of all kinds of monsters, goblins and trolls. And vampires. It was only a matter of time until they won. Until they got her. It was just my luck that I was there when it happened.” I haven’t talked about this in years. I barely think about it, if I can avoid it.

Florenzi stays silent for a while. I can see the pity in his eyes but I don’t want it. When he finally opens his mouth, what he says is not what I braced myself for.

“You’re not a monster.” He says it with so much conviction.

“Yes, I am. I have fucking fangs,” I counter.

“No, you’re not. You’re not a monster at all. You’re brilliant and kind and the coolest guy I’ve ever met. And the most handsome one.” He grins at me.

“You called me a monster yourself.” Over and over again, from the moment he suspected I was a vampire.

“You said worse things.” I can’t argue with him on that. “Besides, I didn’t mean it. I never thought you were a monster.”

I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe a little,” he relents. “But I haven’t thought that for a long time. Not really.”

“You wanted to tear me apart from the moment we met.” I don’t know why I can’t just accept this. Florenzi giving me compliments and making me feel like, maybe, he’s right and I’m not a monster after all.

“No,” he smiles a little wistfully. “Mostly, I just wanted to be your friend.” He turns to me, giving me that look again. A little scared (of me, of this, of opening up?) but also bold, like he’s daring me to stop him from saying these things. From being honest and open and lovely.

“You did?” I ask.

He nods. “I though you were so cool. All dressed in black, with your mean stare and your bad-boy-attitude.”

I can’t stop myself from laughing at that. 11-year-old me definitely did not feel cool. In the slightest.

“Are you kidding me?” I ask Florenzi. “ _You_ thought _I_ was cool?”

“You already knew some spells when you came to Watford! That was _so_ cool. Really, I though there couldn’t be any mage more powerful than you,” he continues. He has to be kidding me.

“You’re turning my world upside down right now,” I tell him. He giggles, the same look in his eyes that he’s had for the past few days. I think it’s his happy look.

“No, that’s really what I thought back then,” he says. “I admired you.”

“You didn’t make me feel like that,” I mumble, more for himself than for him. But of course he hears.

Laughing, he shakes his head. “ _You_ were out for my head from the moment we met!”

“Well, you were insufferable,” I reply. He really was. Eleven years old and so full of himself because he was the Chosen One. And so fascinating to little me.

He’s still laughing. “You just _liked_ me.”

I don’t deny that that’s the truth. There’s no use denying those things anymore. But I don’t give him the satisfaction of telling him I like him myself. Instead, I squeeze his hand and close my eyes. It’s nice. This. Even if I can feel myself slipping up and showing him way too much. It’s nice to see how happy it makes him.

We stay like that for a while, holding hands and lying next to each other. In silence and peace. It’s like in all of my fantasies except that it’s real and even better than I could have ever imagined it.

“So, which one are you?” Matteo asks all of a sudden.

“What do you mean?” He’s pointing at the book lying on my night shelf. _The Picture of Dorian Gray_. Of course.

“Which one do you see yourself as? Dorian Gray? Lord Henry? The pained artist?” He’s still grinning. I feel like he hasn’t stopped grinning since we kissed for the first time.

I raise an eyebrow at him. “You’ve read it?”

He shrugs. “You forgot to take it with you one summer so I did. It’s pretty good.”

“Pretty good? It’s genius.” I grin back at him.

He shrugs again. Sometimes, I think he communicates solely through shrugs. It’s more endearing than I’d ever admit.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” he reminds me.

“It’s more complicated than that. I’m not just one of them. They’re all part of me.” I don’t think I can explain to Florenzi just how much this book means to me. It’s not about relating to the characters. It’s about the fact that it got me through everything. That it was there for all the good things and the bad things, waiting for me to read it again and again and again. But I can’t say that to Florenzi. He wouldn’t understand.

He nods, like he’s following my train of thought, even though I haven’t said anything. Then, he wrinkles his eyebrows. “Wait. Am I Dorian Gray in your story?” He looks slightly offended now.

“Vain, obsessed with himself … I think it tracks.” I grin at him. I’ve done so much grinning and laughing in the past days, my cheeks are hurting. It’s not something I’m used to.

This feels dangerous, what we’re doing. Staying in this bubble where it’s just the two of us and the rest of the world doesn’t matter. Where we ignore all our problems and the fact that we were so close to uncovering some of the Mage’s darkest secrets. Where we pretend everything is all rainbows and sunshine.

I ask him, eventually. I can’t bear the thought of me being what holds him back from finding out the truth. “What about your mum?”

Florenzi’s eyes darken immediately. “What about her?”

“Well, we were kind of in the middle of trying to look for her and …”

He cuts me off. “Let’s not talk about that now.”

But I can’t just let it go. Not when we were so close and he cared so much. “You wanted to find her so badly.”

Florenzi shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, David. I’ll never find her anyway. Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.” He shrugs.

“I don’t believe that’s true,” I disagree.

He looks at me, his eyes slightly desperate. “Please, David. I don’t want to think about my mum. Isn’t this good?”

He holds up our interlinked fingers as if to show me what he means (as if I’d ever misunderstand) and I can’t stop myself from smiling a little.

“Alright, Florenzi. If you so desperately want to keep making out with me, we can do that.” I grin at him. 

“Can’t you just call me Matteo?” he asks. He sounds a little exasperated.

I shake my head which leads to him giving me an annoyed look. There’s something serious in it.

Eventually, I give in. “Matteo,” I say, softly, just for him. And then again. “Matteo.”

I almost can’t stand the way he’s looking at me. I have to close my eyes, just so I can bear it. But he’s right. It’s good. This is good.

**Matteo**

On Tuesday morning, David refuses to stay away from school any longer and drags me to class. We don’t talk about it but we both know we’re going to keep what happened a secret, at least for now. So David leaves our room before I do, and I wait for a few minutes before going to class. I even manage to avoid talking to Jonas and Amira throughout the day, pretending I’m too busy trying to catch up with what I missed yesterday. I’m not prepared to explain to them what happened.

But they don’t leave me in peace forever. I’m in my room, alone because David has football practice and he refused to skip another one, when there’s a knock.

“I know you’re in there, Matteo!” Jonas’s voice shouts through the door when I don’t answer.

With a sigh, I get up and open the door. He’s standing there, Amira next to him, both looking at me with their worried look. Like they’re my parents or something. Before I can invite them in, they’re standing in the middle of the room, Jonas holding out a packet of crisps. When I take it and sit down on the floor, they join me. I’m pretty sure they’re waiting for me to explain myself but I stay silent and just start eating the crisps.

It takes a few minutes until Jonas can’t stand the silence anymore. “Where were you, mate? What’s happening?”

Amira gives me her questioning look but she doesn’t refrain from stealing half of my crisps while waiting for an answer.

I’m considering lying to them. But I’ve been lying so much and I’m so tired of it. And everything that happened with David makes me so happy. I _want_ to share it with them.

“Did something happen?” Jonas repeats, when I don’t answer immediately.

Slowly, I nod. Amira’s eyes turn worried immediately.

“Nothing bad,” I explain quickly. “Just … something new.”

“New?” Now Amira is screwing up her eyes.

Jonas raises an eyebrow. “Does this have anything to do with the fact that David also didn’t show up to class yesterday?”

I shrug, pretending I don’t care, but I can feel myself blush a little.

Amira’s look turns even more sceptical. “You didn’t kidnap and torture him, right?”

I laugh and shake my head. “No. I didn’t kidnap and torture him.”

“Then what did you do to him?” Jonas asks.

It spills out of me before I can stop it. “I kissed him.”

They don’t look as surprised as I expected them to. Instead, Jonas looks … annoyed? And Amira has a tiny victorious smile playing around her lips.

“I knew it!” she says. “I told you!” She grins at Jonas like she just won the lottery. 

“It wasn’t _that_ obvious,” Jonas defends himself.

I don’t know what’s happening.

“Well, that will be five pounds either way.” Amira holds out her hand while Jonas begrudgingly hands her a crumpled note. Then, she turns to me. “Thank you for finally growing some sense, Matteo.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I’m so confused. However I expected them to react, it wasn’t this.

“Your crush on David was so obvious and you were so oblivious, I thought you would never get it,” Amira explains.

“Well, it wasn’t that obvious,” Jonas repeats. Amira rolls her eyes.

“Wait,” I interrupt them. “You knew? All this time, you knew?”

“I wouldn’t say I _knew_ , I just … had my suspicions,” Amira smiles at me. “I know you quite well, Matteo.”

“Apparently better than I know myself,” I murmur.

Now she’s laughing. “It was just a matter of time until you figured it out. And I’m glad you did. At least I take it went well, judging by how happy you are?”

I can’t contain the smile that’s spreading on my face. “Yeah. The last few days were like … a dream, or something. Unreal.”

Both their faces turn unbearably soft. I can’t stop myself from grinning like crazy. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulder. They don’t mind. They don’t mind at all. Instead, they’re here and supportive and happy for me. And they placed bets on me. And I can finally tell them about everything.

…

Hours later, we’re still sitting on the floor of my room and talking. Conversation has moved on, from school to Jonas’s feelings for Hanna to Amira’s plans for after school. She’s in the middle of telling us a story about how her younger brother keeps stealing her sweaters when the door opens and David stands there.

“I’ll leave again,” he says immediately when he sees us, almost out the door again.

“Why don’t you stay?” Amira asks quickly. She smiles at him, way too broadly, so it looks slightly scary.

He looks hesitant. But I smile at him too and Jonas nods encouragingly and apparently, magically, that is enough for him. He sits down next to me and he even lets me take his hand. And before I know it, he’s involved in a debate on what the most interesting forbidden spell is. I’m completely lost but I don’t care. This is what happiness feels like.

**David**

The next few weeks feel unreal. I don’t know what exactly we’re doing, Florenzi and I. Whether we’re dating now or whether we’re still enemies, just enemies that occasionally kiss each other. But we spend a lot of time together, sometimes with Jonas and Amira there too. It turns out that talking to them about all the fascinating aspects of magic is just as fun as trying to beat them in class.

Florenzi and I decided to keep a low profile, not telling people at school about what’s going on between us. Not that anyone would care, judging by how exactly no one notices that we’ve stopped our feud. The only other people who know are the rest of Florenzi’s friends, when Amira drags us to a birthday party for her best friend Sam.

I don’t let myself get comfortable, not truly, because I still don’t trust that this will last and not go up in flames eventually. But it’s hard not to get too comfortable. Especially when our evenings now consist of both of us staying in our room, occasionally even studying together. Not that Florenzi doesn’t try everything imaginable to distract me from school work. 

He keeps clicking the pen I got him for Christmas. He’s been using it ever since break. It’s cute, how much he likes it. But it’s also infuriating. It’s so loud.

“Giving you that was a mistake,” I tell him. I’m only half serious and I hope he gets it.

Florenzi smiles. “Too late now.” He clicks the button a few times, just to get on my nerves. I want to go over to him and kiss him (I always do) but I don’t. I can’t let myself become any more cheesy than I already have.

“Speaking of presents,” Florenzi says and gets up. “I never got you a Christmas present.” He’s smiling as he pulls out a terribly wrapped present from his closet and gives it to me. I can’t keep myself from smiling too.

It’s a sketchbook, a plain one. On the first page, Florenzi has written “For drawings of my very handsome boyfriend, Matteo.” My heart grows warm at him calling himself my boyfriend. So I guess that’s what we are. But I can’t let the sappiness overcome me.

“Who says I want to draw you?” I ask him instead.

“Found one of your drawings at Christmas,” he grins. “And that was _before_.” He doesn’t even mention before what. Before we decided to be friends. Before he kissed me. Before everything changed irreversibly and all my dreams came true at one blow.

“Thank you, Matteo,” I say sincerely. It’s a sweet present, albeit a bit smug. Exactly what you’d expect from Matteo Florenzi.

“Ha! You called me Matteo,” he grins smugly. I roll my eyes but I kiss him. Every time I touch him, I feel like I’m about to burst into flames, but I never do. I don’t allow myself to really think it but maybe, just maybe, this is something I can get used to.

…

I don’t tell Carlos and Abdi about anything but they figure it out quickly. I don’t know if it’s Kiki who tells Carlos or if they just connect the dots but they know and I know they know and that’s it. They’re not even being idiots about the whole things, just give me their insufferable, synchronised grins whenever I excuse myself to go to my room.

I’m a little reluctant to spend time with them and Matteo at the same time. Scared that Carlos and Abdi will find out that I’m not as tough as I seem or scared that Matteo will like me less if he sees me with my friends or maybe just scared that they won’t get along. But there’s no reason to worry. After one of our football games, we somehow all end up celebrating in an empty classroom. Before I know what’s happening, Abdi and Florenzi are having a very serious conversation about their favourite memes while Carlos and Jonas invent a highly complicated drinking game that somehow involves throwing your shoes as far as you can. It’s like they were meant to be friends all along.

It makes me feel weird, seeing them all together. Like it fits too well, too perfectly. Nothing in my life ever does. Usually, things go to shit as soon as they seem even remotely good. This has been too good for too long.

I can hear Laura scold me for thinking like that in my head. She’s told me over and over again that I’m really shit at accepting love and that I should think less and let people love me more. But there were never many people in my life who wanted to try.

And now, all of a sudden, there’s Matteo who is so very open about how he feels, and with him, there’s Jonas and Amira who are so surprisingly ready to welcome me among them and the rest of the girls who are a little wary but also nice and amiable. It feels too good to be true. To have someone in my life who gets excited to just spend an evening together in our room. To have people who are genuinely interested in what I have to say on the influence of modern language change on old-fashioned spells.

It probably _is_ too good to be true. This is not the kind of life you get when you’re a vampire. A monster. (I know Florenzi disagrees with me on this but how can you have such potential to hurt people and not be a monster?)

This is too much. People liking me. _Florenzi_ liking me. It won’t last. It never does.

It didn’t last with my mother. She left me so early that I barely remember her. And she wouldn’t love me if she knew me now. She couldn’t. Not when she spent her life fighting monsters like me.

In order not to be hurt, you need to make sure to not let people get too close. That’s what my father taught me. It’s what I’ve been doing all my life. If you let people in, if you let them become a vital part of your life, it will only hurt you when they inevitably leave you.

There’s no way Florenzi is staying. Why would he? Why would anyone want a vampire for a boyfriend? Why would anyone want to be with the guy who’s made their life hell for the past seven years? No one could ever want that. Certainly not someone as bright and beautiful as Florenzi.

This whole thing started because we were trying to figure out what happened to our mums. I’ll finish what we started. I need to. I need to find answers, answers for my mum’s death, answers for why Matteo’s mother disappeared. For myself and for him. But I’ll find them on my own. I need to do this on my own.

**Matteo**

David has been more distant again lately. It started with the party after his football game, when we celebrated with his friends. He said he was happy we got along but I don’t think he really was. Maybe he didn’t like how well I got along with them. Or maybe his friends secretly hate me and convinced him that he should break up with me. Either way, he’s been pulling away.

When I get to our room on Friday evening after studying with Amira, I’m not surprised to find it empty. I could look in the bathroom, search the closet, ask Carlos and Abdi, but I know I wouldn’t find David. He doesn’t want to be found. He’s gone.


	10. Chapter Nine: Imagine Being Loved By Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little later than I said (no surprises there) but yay, it’s Chapter Nine: Vampires, fire, the apocalypse, Romeo & Juliet and the mortifying ordeal of being known. 
> 
> I don’t have anything to say except the title is from Talk by Hozier and this chapter might get a little emotional. It’s dedicated to my good friend Paula, who’s been here from the start. Never forget that Jesus would have been an emo.

**Chapter Nine: Imagine Being Loved By Me**

**David**

Finding the vampires was easier than I thought it was going to be. I don’t know how I did it, really. When I left Watford, everything was a haze. I just followed my instincts and this is where they led me.

I’m in some run-down village. It can’t be that far from Watford, considering I walked all the way here, but the last few hours are such a fog in my mind that I’m not sure. Maybe I ran all this way. Maybe I can fly now. I’m not even tired. Maybe I’m stronger than I previously knew.

There’s a voice at the back of my head that keeps telling me it shouldn’t be this easy to find a vampire lair. That it’s a trap. But I think the truth is that something inside of me instinctively knew how to find them. Because I belong with them. Because I’m _like_ them, no matter how much I want to ignore that part of myself.

Their lair is the biggest cliché I’ve ever seen. It’s a shabby pub, painted all black, with what I’m pretty sure is mould on the outside. I wonder how it looks to Normals. Maybe they don’t even have to conceal it. No sane soul would ever enter a building like that. Good thing I don’t have a soul.

The pub is almost empty except for a bartender who looks as shabby as the building, a couple making out at one of the tables and a guy in a shiny suit sitting at the bar. When I enter, he turns around. The couple breaks apart. They’re all unmistakably vampires and the fact that the guy in the suit is baring his fangs isn’t the only indicator of that. Despite their young faces, they look _old_. Like they’re tired of life. It feels like I’m looking my future in the eye.

Suit Guy seems to be the leader, if you can call him that with how sad the entire group looks. In stories, vampires are always beautiful, but he’s the opposite. His face is flawless but there’s something uncanny about it. There’s an ugliness to it that runs deeper than what he looks like. He looks well and truly evil.

“David Schreibner,” he says with a drawl. A chill runs down my spine, not just at the fact that he knows my name but at the way he says it. “Have you finally come to join us? We’ve been waiting for you.”

The way he talks makes me want to turn around and run. But I stand my ground. “I’ve come here for answers,” I tell him.

His face distorts into a grin, a properly ugly one. He’s baring his fangs again. I don’t know how I know but there’s no question. These are the vampires that killed my mother and Turned me. I wonder which one of them it was. Their leader? The woman behind the bar, polishing glasses but listening intently? The couple? Or all of them together? I’m not sure it even matters.

For a moment, we just stare at each other. Then I finally ask, “How did I find you?” I scold myself for it immediately. If there’s one thing I need to be careful about, it’s not letting them see my weaknesses. Confessing that I didn’t know what I was doing by coming here means I’m making myself appear weaker than I should.

Suit Vampire laughs. It sounds as grainy as his voice when he speaks again. “You will always find us, David. We made you who you are, so you belong with us.”

Suddenly, looking around at them and their shabby lair and the way they all look at me like I’m some fascinating addition to the décor of the place, I don’t think I do anymore. I could never belong with them.

“You killed my mother,” I say. It takes all my strength to keep my voice from shaking.

Bartender Vampire rewards me with a laugh. “Did you come here for revenge?” she hisses. It sounds like she’s making fun of me.

I’ve thought about that. Taking revenge for my mother and myself. But even if my odds weren’t as terrible as they are right now, I don’t think I’d want to. I just want to know _why_.

There’s nothing left to lose, so I ask them outright. Suit Vampire grins at me, his horrible, horrible grin that tells me he’s not going to give me the answer I want to hear.

“Why?” he asks. “You really come in here and ask us why? When your mother was the one who came after us?”

I don’t know what to say to that. I can’t deny it or defend my mother. Not when it’s true. But I don’t need to say anything. He’s more than content with continuing talking.

“Maybe you should ask yourself why your mother did what she did. Why she went after magickal creatures, trying to stop us from living our lives in peace? Why she was so full of hate for anyone who wasn’t a mage that she sought us out just to kill us?”

I know he’s wrong. I know the reason she went after them was because they were threatening Normals, threatening human lives. Because they were killing people. But I wonder if there isn’t a little bit of truth to it. If, maybe my mother was really blinded by her hatred for magickal creatures and that’s why she dedicated her life to getting rid of them. I know my family has a superiority complex. I know my mother was an elitist, wanting the World of Mages to stay as pure as possible. I know she wouldn’t love me if she knew me today.

Suit Vampire knows it too. “Do you really think your mother would accept you if she knew who you are? Her own son, a vampire?”

He’s right. I know he is. I’m a vampire. I will always be. It’s etched into my soul and my blood. Maybe I should just stay here. Become a part of this group, belong _somewhere_. Maybe this is what I was meant to be all along.

But I’m not like them. I don’t drink human blood. I don’t hurt people, not on purpose. I still have a heart. (A beating heart. I can feel it right now, beating like it wants to jump out of my chest. I’m still capable of feeling panic, too.) I still have magic.

When Suit Vampire attacks, I conjure up a fire in my palm. It’s dangerous as fuck. I’m just as flammable as they are. But it works. He backs down immediately. The barkeeper hisses at me but before this situation escalates even more, I slowly move towards the door and exit the pub. The fire is burning hotly in my palm and for a moment, I think I won’t be able to stop it. But I concentrate and the flames dissolve. And then I run.

…

When we were younger, Laura called our mum’s death day the apocalypse. Every day, as the day came closer, she’d talk about it. I never agreed with her. It wasn’t the apocalypse for me. It was just another day I barely remembered.

After the vampires attacked, my father and Laura were looking me for an entire three hours. They were worried sick. They were sure the vampires had taken me with them. But I was just hiding. I had seen my mother die and I had been bitten by a vampire and I was so scared. Of the world and of myself.

They found me eventually, hiding in the farthest corner of the attic, small and hurt and quiet. I wasn’t even crying. I was four years old and I had just lost my humanity and my mum. And I didn’t cry. I just shut off, not talking to anyone for almost a year. Magic saved me.

My father and Laura were worried that I wasn’t going to come into my magic because of the vampire thing. Vampires don’t belong among the magickal creatures who have magic so they weren’t sure if I was even a mage anymore. Turns out I was one of the youngest mages to ever grow into their magic. I was only six.

It felt like magic filled up the hole in my heart that was left there after my mum died. I think that’s why magic is everything to me. It has always felt like the one thing in my life that’s rightfully mine and won’t ever leave me. More than that, it’s something I’m good at. Something I can _control_.

When I saw Matteo for the first time, I could feel the magic radiating off him immediately. It’s like I was drawn to him, full of magic as he was. And I _was_ drawn to him, magickally. The Crucible drew us together and made us share a room. All those fights, the pranks, the discussions, every single moment made me forget that pain for a moment. It’s like I sucked up all the magic he was constantly losing. Like all these years, we complemented each other perfectly. But we didn’t see it because we were too stuck up in fighting each other.

Now he’s gone. (I’m gone. I’m the one who ran away.) There’s no magic left here. There’s no magic left inside of me.

I don’t know where I am. I just ran, as fast and far as I could. Until I didn’t have any energy left. Until I realised that all magic around me was gone. That’s when I gave up.

I don’t know why it’s gone all of a sudden. I just lay down between all the trees and looked up to the sky for a moment, trying not to think. (I don’t know how Matteo does it. I could never make my brain stop. I don’t want to think about Matteo right now.) Having no magic is the worst feeling in the world.

I’m in a forest, a small one. There’s a manor up ahead, dark and looming. It reminds me a bit of my family’s home except there’s no trace of family or love left on this manor. It just looks lonely and sad. It’s pretty fitting for this moment, for me in this moment. If I had my copy of _Dorian Gray_ with me, I’d write that down in a margin somewhere. But I don’t. I don’t have anything with me except for my wand.

I don’t know how long I’m planning to stay here. I know I can’t just stay away forever. There’s no way I won’t sit my final exams, throw away all those years of good grades. I just needed to get away from Watford, from Matteo, from all the illusions being with him put into my head. Just for a while.

For a few weeks, I could convince myself that someone could love me. That _Matteo Florenzi_ could love me. But I’m still a monster. He even saw. He saw my fangs and he saw me drinking blood. And he kissed me anyway. (Something must be seriously wrong with him.)

But he can’t love me, not truly. My mother wouldn’t love me, if she knew what I was. She hunted vampires. She would never have accepted her son being one. I don’t think my father loves me very much either. I don’t think he really loves anyone, not since my mother. Sometimes, I think he’s incapable of love, period. And Laura … well, Laura might care about me. But she has lots of people to care about. Linn, all her friends, even her co-workers.

I think a part of me was hoping to find out more about my mother. To find out that there was a secret plot to bring her down, to bring down my beautiful, invincible mother. But there isn’t more to it. She angered the vampires so they went after her and when they found her, I was there by chance. They got her and then they got me and that was it. She’s gone forever and whoever I would have been if I hadn’t become a vampire is gone too.

But there’s more to Matteo’s mother. I know that. We were so close to uncovering everything and then the world turned upside down and we just kind of stopped. I can’t be the reason he never finds her again.

Matteo would have left eventually, if I hadn’t. I know that. The people in my life always leave me at some point. My mother left me alone when I was only four. My father left me alone the same year, even if he’s physically still here. Laura left as soon as I got to Watford, desperate to get away from our father and our past. There’s no reason why Matteo wouldn’t leave. 

My mother’s death wasn’t the apocalypse. It wasn’t because I don’t remember much and because life carried on after. I had Laura and, despite everything, my father who were there and looked after me. I had a new life, a slightly more complicated one, but I was a mage nonetheless. I had a home, at Watford and with my father. Now I have no one.

My mother’s death wasn’t the apocalypse to me because I always knew it would eventually get worse than that. This is it. This is the apocalypse.

**Matteo**

After David left, I went to bed. I just couldn’t deal with any of the stuff that was happening. Jonas and Amira tried to talk to me through the door but I stayed silent until they left again. And then I slept, in the hopes that it would make the pain go away. It didn’t. All it did was make me wake up way too early, unable to go back to sleep.

Now it’s barely day but I’m restless. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Look for David? Leave him alone? Wait for him to come back? I don’t even know where I’d start with looking for him. But I can’t just do nothing.

Everything was so perfect. I thought we were in love. I thought he liked me too. Of course, there would have been some issues with his father and the Mage and the Old Families. But I thought we’d figure it out. Together.

Maybe I got him all wrong. Maybe he just strung me along, made me believe he cared about me so he could eventually leave and break my heart. Maybe that was his evil plan all along, the final way in which he would defeat me. 

But I know that’s not true. I know it wasn’t all in my head. It couldn’t have been, not with the way he looked at me and talked to me and made me feel so safe. It can’t have been fake. I just need to figure out why he left. Why he doesn’t want to be found.

I know it’s not right to look through his stuff but he brought this on himself. _He_ ran away. It’s only fair that I do this now, in order to find out where he is. I go through his bedside table drawer but there’s barely anything in there except for tissues and bookmarks. Then I go through his closet, filled with perfectly ironed clothes. There’s no hidden message for me taped to the back. I’m about to go through his desk next when I see his stupid favourite book lying not on his but on my bedside table. It’s a wonder he didn’t take it with him. Maybe he did leave a secret message in there.

There’s David’s name written in pretentious cursive on the first page. And then the book is a mess. Every page is full of writing and drawings. I don’t know how I’m ever supposed to find a clue in here. But one of the many quotes that’s underlined sticks out to me. Maybe because it’s underlined twice. “I want to make Romeo jealous. I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter, and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir their dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain.” Next to it, he’s written “MF, finally”. Motherfucker, finally?

I leaf through the rest of the book. It’s full of underlined quotes like that, with David’s mostly intelligible handwriting next to it. Lots of the notes seem random, sometimes just one word or a little doodle. There’s one that I’m pretty sure is a shopping list. This is useless.

I turn back to the quote, the one with the double line. I read it again, trying to understand it. It’s about love. Why would he underline a quote about love? And then it hits me. MF. Matteo Florenzi.

I was wrong before. About David. About him running away because he didn’t want to be with me. About not wanting to be found. He wants nothing more than to be found.

So I will find him.

…

My magic still scares me. I haven’t tried to properly use it, for something important, since Christmas. But I know I have to, for this. To find David.

It’s a spell I have never used before. It’s a hard one too, but I can’t think of another one that might work. I need a strong spell for this. Maybe too strong.

So I take out my wand and I close my eyes. I try to remember that moment in the forest, David directing my magic, making me feel like I could control it. _Try to gather it_. I’m trying, David. I’m trying.

I’m already regretting choosing a Shakespeare spell. They’re among the hardest spells you can do and my magic is certainly not good enough for this. I’m not good enough for this. But I _need_ to try. My mother took me to watch a performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream when I was younger once. I didn’t understand all or even most of it but I still enjoyed it. It’s the only thing I know about pronouncing Shakespeare so I try to remember that play and how the actors talked.

And then I think of David, of what he looks like when he smiles, truly smiles, and what his voice sounds like when he’s insulting me and how it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside when he looks at me. And then I feel the warm feeling right here, in this moment. I can’t tell what’s thoughts of David and what’s magic anymore. It’s all intermingling.

Before I can think about it too much, I try to direct my magic as best I can and cast, “ **Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out!** ”

It feels like something inside of me explodes. At first, I think I failed terribly at the spell. But then there’s a pull, similar to the one I felt in the forest. It’s like a voice in my head, David’s voice, that’s saying “find me.” So I follow it.

**David**

I don’t know how long I’ve stayed in this forest or how I’ve managed to fall asleep but I must have because when I open my eyes, it’s light. It has to be the next day. I know I’ll have to get up at some point, try to make my way back to Watford or at least to Laura’s apartment. But not yet. The absence of any magic makes it somehow harder to get up. So I’ll just stay here a little longer.

I’m trying not to think of Matteo and spectacularly failing at it. At the beginning, after we had just kissed for the first time, I couldn’t keep my hands off Matteo and I know he felt the same. It’s like we had to get to know each other all new, get to know how we feel and how we fit together. My hands had to get used to his body and his to mine, after all those years where we were so careful to keep our distance. It was beautiful. It gave me goosebumps everywhere.

But then what followed didn’t last long enough for me to remember what he feels like. I remember it a little, when I close my eyes and concentrate. How his hand felt in mine and how kissing him felt and how I never wanted to stop. But it hasn’t burnt itself into my body yet. I didn’t let it.

This is bullshit. I got to have a tiny part of paradise and I could have gotten more and instead I just ran away and threw it all in the trash. I could have been happy. I’m sure of that now. But I ruined it. Of course I did.

That’s when I hear the voice. I think it’s in my head at first, my memory playing me a trick. But then I hear it again, unmistakably Matteo, “David, you bloody wanker!”

I can’t believe he’s here. He’s such an idiot. He really came to find me.

He looks a little dishevelled when he stumbles into view. Like he’s been senselessly running around looking for me. When he sees me, he rolls his eyes and falls down next to me. For a moment, I think he might kiss me or hug me. But he shoves me instead.

“I’ll have you know that I’m getting better at magic. In case you ever do that again,” he says, seemingly casual, but I know there’s more to it than he lets on.

I don’t know what to say to him that doesn’t sound like a cliché or like I’m making fun of him, so I stay silent. He does too. We’re just sitting there next to each other, not even looking at each other’s faces. I’m only now realising how hungry I am. Florenzi notices too, when my stomach starts grumbling. That’s slightly embarrassing. I want to sink through the floor of the forest and never look at him again. I want to stay in this moment forever, Florenzi next to me.

He breaks the silence eventually. “Why did you leave?”

I should just tell him that I’m scared. That we got so close and it scared the shit out of me. That I’m happy he went looking for me and found me. But I can’t. I do the classic Schreibner thing instead: drive him away.

“What did you think, Florenzi? That we’d be happy boyfriends? There’s still a war coming. We’re still on opposite sides of it.” I can see the hurt in his eyes.

“What if we weren’t,” he answers, eyes bright and shattering my heart into pieces.

I shake my head. “You know that’s not an option.” He’s saying everything I want him to say and yet I can’t let him. I can never let him.

“Well, what if it were. What if I just didn’t want to fight you.” He keeps insisting and I’ve never loved him more. But it’s delusional. He knows that’s not how it works.

“Try telling that to the Mage,” I scoff.

Florenzi turns to me and looks me right in the eyes. “Fuck the Mage,” he says.

Matteo Florenzi has never been this attractive. I can barely keep myself from kissing him. (I never can. I don’t need to.)

He lets me kiss him but not for long. Instead, he breaks off and asks again. “Why did you run away?”

He sounds so sad. When I went away, I didn’t even consider what it would mean to him. I thought it would make things better for him, to be away from me. But he’s had a fair amount of people leave him already and I just made it worse.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. I mean it. “I know that doesn’t make it better but I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Then what were you trying to do?”

I take a deep breath. “I’m bad at … this.” I gesture between us and I know Florenzi knows what I mean, even if I don’t say it. “At accepting that people like me. There haven’t been many people who have liked me in my life. I didn’t exactly try to make people like me either. But you did. And I guess that scared me.”

“So you just ran away? You’re a knob.” He states it as a fact. I can’t tell if he’s angry at me or not.

“I’m really sorry,” I repeat.

Florenzi doesn’t say anything more but he does take my hand. We’re sitting in silence again but I know this conversation isn’t over.

This time, I’m the one who breaks the silence. “How did you find me?” I ask.

He grins at me. “I cast **Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out**.” He looks so proud of himself. The slick bastard. He has every right to be proud. That spell is hard as fuck. It’s also impossible to cast … unless you’re in love. I have to fight with everything I have to suppress a smile.

“That’s pretty impressive,” I tell him. He seems surprised at the compliment.

Then, before we descend into silence again, I decide to be a little brave. “So you’re in love, huh?” I grin at him.

“Come on, you know I love you,” he smiles. As soon as he realises what he’s said, shock crosses his face.

“You what?” I ask. I can’t believe he really said that. I can’t believe he means it. He probably meant to say that he’s going to shove me again. Yes, that has to be it.

He rolls his eyes at me, as if he’s annoyed I’m asking him to repeat it, but he does it anyway. “I love you, David Schreibner. There, now you know.” He laughs a little, at himself. “I don’t think I’ve done a very good job of hiding that.”

He’s looking at me and with every second that passes, he looks a little more insecure. It takes me a moment to realise that it’s probably because I haven’t given him an answer yet (though the sappy look I’m giving him should be answer enough, and truly, I don’t know how he’s made it to this point without realising that I’m hopelessly in love with him). Somehow, despite the fact that he’s said it first and I know the world isn’t going to end when I say it and I know it will be the full truth, it feels a little hard to tell him I love him. Because it’s been a while since I said that to someone. Because I’ve never said it to someone, not like that. Because there’s a part of me that’s a little scared he’ll laugh at me and tell me it was just a joke, even if the bigger, rational part of me knows that won’t happen.

But I do it anyway. “I love you too, Matteo.” His smile grows wide, whether at my confession or at the fact I’ve used his first name, I’m not sure.

“That’s good,” he says, quietly. And then, finally, he kisses me. For a moment, I think magic has returned to this place. But then I realise it hasn’t. What I’m feeling is just love. It’s almost better than magic.

“I’m not letting you go again,” Florenzi murmurs against my cheek. “You’re officially not allowed to leave again.”

I laugh at that. “Fine with me.”

“Good,” he says softly. And he really means it. He’s holding me like he’s not planning on letting me go any time soon. And I mean it too. I’m more than fine with it.

We stay like that for a while. I have no idea how much time passes or what time it is in general. I don’t even care about the fact that I’m still really hungry. This, being close to Florenzi and him being close to me, is everything I wanted.

“You want to know a secret?” Florenzi whispers.

“Sure,” I say, just as softly.

“Today’s my birthday.” He giggles, like it’s some elaborate joke I don’t get.

He’s right, I realise. It’s the 28th of February. He’s 18 today. 

“I’m sorry you have to spend your birthday in a creepy forest with me,” I say but I don’t really mean it. I still don’t let him go. I don’t think I’ll ever let him go.

“Eh, it’s fine. I’ve had worse birthdays,” he shrugs. It breaks my heart a little. (Nothing could break my heart right now. Not when it’s just become whole again.)

“Happy birthday,” I whisper, softly. He finally detaches himself from me but only to kiss me again. It’s a short kiss and a sweet one and it’s making me hope there will be many kisses like that in our future.

Maybe Matteo will leave. Or maybe, by some wonder of the world, he won’t. Right now, in this moment, he loves me. Somehow, inexplicably, he decided that I’m worthy of his love. And I’m starting to think that maybe I am.

I’m tired of running away. I want to get to know him, all of him. I know him so well and yet this Matteo is so different from what I’m used to. And there’s so much to learn. About him and about being with him and about me when I’m like this, when I’m not hiding and not scared but letting myself be happy.

It’s scary but I think maybe it’s supposed to be. At least a little scary, so opening up feels like it’s worth it. Because it is, I think. That’s what Matteo taught me.

It’s not something I need to think about right now though, the future. Right now, I just want to stay wrapped in the all-encompassing warmth of Matteo for the rest of my life.

…

But I don’t get to. A crackling noise makes me turn around. Matteo Florenzi is standing in front of us. Matteo Florenzi is in my arms and somehow, he’s also standing there. But it’s not the same Matteo. The Matteo standing before us is younger, at least by a few years. He’s wearing a washed-out Luigi shirt. His eyes are filled with hunger.


	11. Chapter Ten: The Left Over You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to Chapter Ten: The final showdown, pain, monsters, the absence of magic and fathers. 
> 
> This is the opposite of what this fic has been so far: all plot. It's a bit of a mess but I'm just glad it's done so have whatever this is. The title of this chapter is from Where Does The Good Go. 
> 
> What’s happening in this chapter is kiiiinda similar to Carry On? I guess? But it’s also pretty different so I don’t think it should really spoiler you for the book. (It may make you connect some dots earlier? But I did try to change as much stuff as I could come up with.) 
> 
> Also, it picks up right where the previous chapter left off so it probably doesn't hurt to reread the very last paragraph.

**Chapter Ten: The Left Over You**

**David**

“It’s the Humdrum,” Matteo whispers. His voice is filled with fear.

I can’t wrap my head around it. The Humdrum looks like Matteo. He looks like a sad, lost version of Matteo. An angry version. Part of me wants to laugh at the sheer absurdity of this situation, but I suppress the urge.

Instead, I assess our situation and I realise that the Humdrum is _right here_. And he’s probably about to attack us. And there’s no magic here. We’re doomed.

I don’t know what happens when the Humdrum attacks. As far as I know, no one has ever seen him face to face before, except for Florenzi, Augustin and Mahmood. At least that’s what the rumour was, that they encountered him right before summer break. I’m pretty sure it’s true, when I think about the state Matteo returned to our room in. He was an even bigger mess than usual, all rumpled up and tired, blood sticking to his clothes. (It took everything in me to stop myself from licking it off.)

But I’m not about to find out how the Humdrum attacks because he starts talking instead: “I’ve been waiting for this.”

His voice sounds like Matteo’s but it also doesn’t. It sounds like it’s coming from very far away and right next to my ear all at once. It makes me want to turn around and run as far away as possible and at the same time, it freezes me in place, unable to move.

I don’t even think the Humdrum registers me. He just looks at Matteo. “This has been a long time coming,” he says. “Finally, we see each other again.”

“Leave me alone!” Matteo pants. His voice is filled with desperation. He’s been here before. I’m sure of that. And he sounds scared. If even Matteo Florenzi sounds scared, there’s no chance for us.

“I will _never_ leave you alone, Matteo,” the Humdrum snarls. “Don’t you know that by now?”

This is starting to get very, very creepy. If this was a horror movie, it would be the part where we get murdered.

But thankfully, it’s not. It’s our life. And we’re still mages, even if there’s no magic left. We’re going to find a way out of this. We _need_ to. Matteo is still the Chosen One and he’s done this before. But all he does is stare the Humdrum down and pull out his wand. Maybe he’s dafter than I thought.

**Matteo**

“There’s no magic,” David whispers as soon as my wand is pointed at the Humdrum.

But there is. Everything is filled with magic. It’s pressing onto me from all sides, so much and so heavy that it almost feels like it will break me. I don’t know what’s happening here. It’s creepy as fuck.

I wonder if it’s David or me who’s off. But I don’t think I need to ask myself that, really. It’s always me. I just want to know how. Does that mean the magic is only in my head? Or is it all my own magic, too heavy and too much, so it started leaking? Either way, I’m what’s wrong here.

The Humdrum agrees. “You won’t be able to defeat me with that,” he laughs. “You never could. You can’t even control your magic.”

I hate how cruel he is. I wonder if I was cruel like that at fourteen or if it’s just the fact that he’s a monster that makes him that way. How much of him is a monster and how much of him is me? I don’t want to know the answer.

“But you don’t really want to defeat me anyway,” the Humdrum continues. “You’re too weak for that.”

He’s wrong on that one. I do want to defeat him. I want nothing more than for him to go away and never bother me again. And I’m _not_ too weak to defeat him.

So I refocus my wand and point at him. I suck at coming up with spells in situations like this but I have no choice. “ **Vanish –** ” I begin, my magic there but far weaker than I was hoping. It doesn’t matter because before I can say anything more, the Humdrum starts laughing. David is staring at me with his eyes wide.

“You can’t defeat me with magic, Matteo. You never could,” he states.

“We’ll see about that,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “This place has no magic you can draw from.”

But he’s wrong. He has to be. I can feel the magic. Apparently, the Humdrum can read thoughts or feelings or something because he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“You can feel the magic, can’t you? That’s because you’re connected to this place,” he explains. I don’t know what he means by that. I’ve never been here before.

“This is where it all started,” the Humdrum whispers gleefully and points to the manor looming behind us. I’d almost forgotten it was here but now that it registers again, it seems impossible to overlook. “18 years ago, tonight.”

I don’t understand anything. I’m certain that I’ve never been here before. This place is so weird that I’d remember it for sure.

“What do you mean?” I ask him. I half-expect him to brush it off or ignore me, but he actually gives me an answer.

“This is where you were born, Matteo. 18 years ago, you were born here. On Ash Wednesday. That was really important to him.” He’s still grinning, in an eerie way. Like he’s enjoying this. But there’s something twisted about his face too. Like maybe he doesn’t want to be here either.

What he’s saying isn’t making any sense. Important to who? Why would I have been born here, in this weird, lost manor? A place I have no connection to, I’ve never been.

“That explains the magic,” David whispers. “You were born here so this place’s magic is intrinsically linked to yours.”

That still doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any sense. I just want this to be over.

“What do you want?” I ask the Humdrum.

“I have it all,” the Humdrum says. Now his face looks different. Less gleeful and full of pain instead. “I have everything you don’t have. Why did you do that to me, Matteo?”

I don’t know what he means. I’ve never given him anything. I never did anything to him, not on purpose. I didn’t even hurt him when I encountered him last summer. I just tried to get out of there as fast as possible.

“I don’t understand,” I tell him. “What do you have?” I’m desperate to get it, to realise what is happening here. What he wants from me. To make it stop. 

“Everything.” His voice is filled with pain.

I want to ask him what he means, what _everything_ is. I want to make his pain stop because it feels like it’s my pain, like it’s so strong that it’s hurting everywhere. I want to end this.

And then the Mage appears.

…

David is on his feet before I can stop him. “Leave Matteo alone!” he screams.

The Mage looks taken aback at this sudden outburst of anger. He clearly didn’t expect David to be here as well. But then he seems to decide to just ignore him and addresses me: “We need to get out of here, Matteo. Quickly.” He even holds his hand out to me. It’s like in a bad movie.

David is looking at me with a weary look, as if he’s half expecting me to take the Mage’s hand. He can be so dense sometimes.

“Matteo!” the Mage says again. “I can protect you from the Humdrum.” _You’ve never protected me_ , I think. I’m pretty sure it’s a lie too. I’m pretty sure he has no idea what he’s doing.

I look at the Mage, still with his hand outstretched, and at David, his eyes pleading for me to just run away with him, and then finally at the Humdrum, looking at me with his eyes full of hunger and his soul full of despair. I know what I need to do now.

“Give it to me,” I tell him. The Humdrum looks surprised, like he didn’t expect me to say that. Like he expected a fight. But I think I was going about this the wrong way. I don’t think fighting is going to get me anywhere. After eight years, I’ve finally realised that.

“Give it to me,” I repeat. “All of it. Give me the pain. I’ll take it.”

I can see David shake his head out of the side of my eye but I ignore it. Instead, I stretch my hand out to the Humdrum. A peace offer. I’m capitulating.

Reluctantly, 14-year old me stretches out his hand too. When our hands touch, nothing happens at first. Then, I have to hold onto him with everything I have so I don’t just let go and slide to the forest floor. It hits me all at once. All the feelings about my mother leaving that I so desperately didn’t think about until now. All the pain of being left alone. Of my dad fucking off to Italy, my mum vanishing, the Mage leaving me over and over again. I don’t know how I can take it all. But I have to. I have to make this stop. I’m the only one who can.

When I force my eyes open again, the Humdrum looks different. He’s fraying at the edges. He looks almost … transparent. Like he’s vanishing. But I can’t focus on him, on anything, with all this pain still flooding into me.

“Thank you,” the Humdrum whispers. The only thing left on his face now is sadness. A sadness I know all too well. There’s no pain and anger left in him anymore because it’s all inside of me now.

And then it’s over. Just like that, the Humdrum is gone. The monster I’ve been fighting for eight years just … gone. It’s over. It’s really, truly over.

…

Or maybe it’s not. Because the Mage is still here and I think – I’m getting more sure by the minute – that he was the real monster all along. And I think maybe it’s finally time to stick up for myself.

He’s looking at me with his eyes wide. Like he’s surprised at what he’s just seen. And maybe a little scared. Of me.

“I want you to explain this to me, sir. Everything. The Humdrum and what just happened. I want to finally understand.” My voice isn’t even shaking. I’m done being afraid of the Mage.

He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something but then he closes it again. I’m only realising now how tired he looks. I think it’s the first time in months that I’m seeing him up close.

He sighs. “The Humdrum was never supposed to exist.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” David snaps. I almost forgot he was here.

I’m pretty sure the Mage has forgotten as well because he turns around with a dumbfounded look when he hears his voice. But then he shakes it off and turns back to me.

“The Humdrum … when you just came to Watford, I knew, I just _knew_ that you could be more than you were. More powerful than you seemed. But you didn’t use your magic. You didn’t learn how. So I tried to … well, to get your magic to come out. To get you to really use it. Learn how to control it.” He’s stating it all as fact. He’s still so convinced that he’s in the right.

I’m not sure I’m understanding anything of what he’s saying. But David is ahead of me: “You _invented_ the Humdrum?”

The Mage twists like he’s deeply uncomfortable but then he starts, “Yes, but –”

Before he can say anything more, David is on his feet. “You fucking arsehole, how could you –”

I think he’s about to attack him, properly attack him, but I stop him before he goes too far: “Don’t.”

I wasn’t sure he would but David listens to me and backs down. His eyes are still filled with rage.

“Please continue explaining,” I tell the Mage. I _need_ to understand this, all of it.

The Mage’s face has turned desperate now. “I just wanted the best for you, Matteo. I wanted you to live up to your full potential. I _knew_ you could do more, _be_ more.”

“Bullshit,” David spits. “You just wanted Matteo’s magic for yourself.”

The Mage shakes his head. “I thought it might be useful in the war against the Old Families, sure, but … I wanted the best for Matteo.”

The worst part is, I think he means it. I think he truly believes that what he was doing was the best for me.

“If the Humdrum doesn’t exist, then what was that?” I ask.

Now the Mage looks almost scared. “I’m not sure,” he says meekly. “When you were 14, the threat that I had carefully conducted so far suddenly … became real. I don’t know how it happened or what caused it.”

“I think you know full well,” David says. “ _You_ caused it.”

“How could I have caused –?” David doesn’t let him finish: “You took Matteo’s mother away. Clearly that’s what triggered whatever … that … was.”

“I didn’t …” the Mage begins, clearing his throat. “I didn’t _take her away_. I just looked out for Matteo, for his future.”

David laughs mirthlessly. “Yeah, right. I think we got it by now.”

“She was a distraction!” the Mage exclaims. “She was always talking about ‘protecting’ Matteo, not wanting him to use his magic to its full potential. I couldn’t let that happen!”

So it’s true. I think I’ve known for a while, deep down. That it was all him. That he’s the one who took her away. I just didn’t want to see it. But now it’s undeniable.

I want him to understand what he did to me. I want him to understand all the pain he caused me. The pain that’s still tearing me apart because it’s _so much_.

**David**

Something flickers across Matteo’s face. Something I can’t quite decipher. But when he talks again, his voice is stone cold.

“You hurt me,” he states. “With what you did. Taking my mother away was _wrong_. I never wanted this. To be the Chosen One, to have all this magic. And you only made it worse.”

I’m so proud of him. But the Mage doesn’t seem to get it.

“I did it for you, Matteo,” he says.

“No,” Matteo isn’t backing down. I’ve never loved him more. “You did it for yourself. Because you wanted more power.”

The Mage shakes his head. “Matteo, after everything I did for you … I just … I only ever wanted the best for you.”

“No, you didn’t!” Matteo is half shouting now. He really needs the Mage to get it. It’s painful to watch him ignoring everything Matteo is saying so hard.

“Matteo …” The Mage sounds pleading now. Like he’s still trying to get this under control.

“Don’t call me Matteo!” It’s proper shouting now. I’ve rarely heard Matteo raise his voice like that.

Now the Mage looks at him with what almost looks like hurt. But I’m sure it’s fake. I’m convinced that the Mage isn’t capable of feeling hurt. Or anything much.

Matteo’s face is full of pain. He looks like he’s about to explode. And then he does.

“ **Open Your Eyes!** ” he screams.

There’s so much magic resonating in his voice that it physically blows me back a few steps. Then, it feels like my entire life is flashing before my eyes. But it’s not my life. It’s someone else’s life. It takes me a bit to realise that what I’m seeing are Matteo’s memories.

Being pushed upwards on a swing, two shadows screaming at each other, crying on the schoolyard, meeting me for the first time, a door slammed shut, a crying woman in a kitchen, a fight with me, getting drunk with Jonas, an empty apartment, a colourful figure baking bread, seeing the Humdrum face to face, kissing me. The moments are flashing through my head and they’re threaded through by magic, magic, magic. Is this how he feels at all times? Like he’s filled to the brim with magic and memories and thoughts? Like he’s about to go up in flames if he doesn’t direct all his magic somewhere?

I’d take it all upon me, if I could. I’d feel all the things for him and think all the bad thoughts and make sure he’s alright, at all times. But I can’t. And he’s clearly not alright now. He looks like he’s in so much pain and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make it better.

**Matteo**

I can see everything now. I can see the Mage, all his ideas he had when he was a boy, how he got more and more supporters. My mum, who got pregnant at the exact right time. “A child conceived at Walpurgis night will have power stronger than other children.” All the discussions he had with her. Some weird ritual that involved magic and the full moon and making sure I was born on Ash Wednesday. How he magically prolonged her pregnancy only for that.

When the flashes stop, I’m left with a headache so strong I think it might kill me and more questions than I thought I could have. I don’t understand why he did it. I still don’t.

“Why did you do that? All of that? Why did you do that to me?” I’m not even sure I’m still angry anymore. I think I’m just done. I want to go home and fall asleep and not have to do _anything_ for at least a week.

The Mage shakes his head. He looks desperate but there’s something else. Like everything is slipping from his control.

“I just …” He breaks off, then starts again: “I wanted to …”

“Just tell me. Why?” I repeat. I really need him to explain this to me. I _need_ to understand.

He closes his eyes for a moment and when he looks at me again, he looks defeated. “Magic is one of the most uncharted fields in the world, did you know that? Despite the fact that there’s this big community of us, of mages, we know barely anything about magic. We don’t even know how to use it properly. People are content just wasting their magic, using it to make dinner or play stupid pranks. But think of the _potential_. Think of what we could do if we were fully capable of possessing our magic.”

“This is not one of your lectures,” David says sternly. The disgust leaking from his voice gives me goosebumps and not the nice kind.

The Mage barely looks at him but when he carries on, his voice is flatter. “I knew we could be better mages than we were. I knew there had to be a way, a way to create a mage so powerful he could use magic to its full potential. I dedicated my entire life to it. And I found it. It wasn’t easy, of course. Finding all the necessary spells, taking all the precautions. Finding someone willing to assist my experiment. But your mother was as curious as I was about magic.”

My mother. I’m not sure I want to hear this next part, the role she played in this. I don’t know if I can handle the truth.

“But she got scared, the closer we got to fulfilling our goal. She was pregnant already, a child conceived at Walpurgis night. She was taking all the potions I was so carefully brewing for her. But she wanted to stop.” He really has the audacity to make it sound like my mother was the one in the wrong here. All the pain from the Humdrum is still tearing me apart but it’s nothing compared to the rage this is filling me with. I want to punch him for everything he’s saying but I need to let him finish. I need to understand.

“I couldn’t let her. You have to understand. We were so close to finally revolutionising the magickal world. So I persuaded her and you were born on Ash Wednesday as planned. But after your birth, Sabine refused to let me close to you in any way. She wanted to keep you as far away from magic as possible.” This explains why my mother was always so reluctant to use magic. She did use it, of course, but she hated it. I saw my father cast spells every day but my mother only did on special occasions.

“But then you came to Watford. And I was disappointed when I saw how much she’d let your magickal education slack. You had barely any control over your magic. I knew, I was just certain, that there had to be a way to get it out. To give you control over it.” His insane look is back, like even now, he’s still convinced he’s right.

“The Humdrum,” I say. He nods.

“It was the perfect way to do it, you see? You were stupidly heroic in your first years at Watford. You wouldn’t have missed a chance to protect your friends.” I’m disgusted at his words, at everything he’s saying about me and my mother and my magic.

“But things started to get out of hand the older you got. Your magic started to get out of hand. The experiment worked but it was only the first one. It wasn’t perfect. Your magic started to become too much for you.” He has a pitying look on his face now, as if he’s actually feeling sorry for me, when he was the reason for all of that.

“So instead of acknowledging that and going easy on me, you sent worse monsters after me?” I’m so tired it doesn’t come out half as forceful as I meant it to. It just sounds sad.

He still looks at me with pity. “You had to learn how to control your magic, Matteo. It was essential.”

“Well, that worked spectacularly, didn’t it?” David snarls.

The Mage continues without blinking an eye. “So I did what was necessary. Your mother was still keeping you from your magic and from me. I had to make sure she wouldn’t interfere with my plans. And then the Humdrum appeared, the real Humdrum. It was perfect. It was just what you needed to sharpen your magic.” He still doesn’t get it.

“You hurt me,” I tell him. “What you did was wrong. It was selfish and bad and you should never have done it.” It comes out steadier than I feel, finally. Really, I’m still filled with pain and I want nothing more than to slide to the floor and not have to do anything. If the Mage decides to attack us now, we’re lost. I couldn’t fight him if I wanted to. (Surprisingly, I don’t. I just want him to get out of my life and leave me alone forever.)

“Please, Matteo, I was just trying …” he starts again but he trails off. Even he seems to be out of excuses. But I know what I want now.

“I want you to never hurt me again,” I say. I can feel David’s hand clasp around mine, like he’s trying to reassure me. I hold onto him with everything.

The Mage looks defenceless now. Almost like a child. I forgot that he’s still young as well. He’s barely thirty. And he caused so much harm already.

He opens his mouth, probably for another one of his empty excuses, but a voice calls out: “Stefan Wiese!”

A stern-looking woman is marching towards us. I’m sure I’ve seen her before but I can’t quite place her. She’s Old Family, I’m certain of that. Not just because of the old-fashioned clothes she’s wearing but also because of the way she carries herself. Only entitled Old Family mages look like that.

“The Old Families have asserted that you propose a threat to the magickal world. You will be taken under investigation until the Old Family council has decided on the punishment your crimes,” she says.

Before the Mage can say anything, a golden band flies out of nowhere and lays itself around his arms. Two more guys appear behind the woman and take him away. I don’t know how to read his last look. Pleading for forgiveness? Sadness that he didn’t manage to finish his experiment? Anger that he’s being locked away?

But I don’t have the energy to focus on that anyway. On anything. There’s people milling all around us now. David’s father is here, I’m almost sure. Some other Old Family mages that I’ve seen before but couldn’t call by name. I don’t know how they arrived here. Whether David somehow, magickally alerted his father (he said there’s no magic here but if anyone could it’s David) or whether they could just feel it and showed up. Or maybe they were tracking the Mage already.

There’s a guy approaching David and me, looking like he wants to get us out of here. As if we need saving. He’s about an hour too late for that.

“Mr Florenzi, Mr Schreibner, Stefan Wiese won’t bother you anymore. The Old Families council has the situation under control,” he states. He sounds just as entitled as the woman. I can tell that David is about to say something snarky, tell the guy that we were doing just fine before they arrived and that we don’t need any help, but he holds himself back.

Instead, I murmur a “thanks” and accept the blanket the guy holds out to me. When he sees my hand, the one that’s not holding onto David, his look turns into pity. It’s only when I’m looking down myself that I realise I’m still holding my wand. Or what’s left of it anyway.

In all the chaos, I didn’t even notice that my wand broke when I cast that final spell. I don’t know what that means. I don’t know what any of this means. But I think I’m probably not a mage anymore. 

**David**

Everything is chaos. The Mage is long gone but the council members are bustling around, already starting to investigate the manor and the forest. They’ve already led Matteo away, to start questioning him. I want to protect him from them, take him away and make sure he has to answer no more questions, but I know they won’t let me. The only reason they haven’t started to talk to me immediately is because my father is here. 

He didn’t come to me right away but now that things are starting to get under control, he’s slowly approaching. He makes a vague hand gesture in Matteo’s direction.

“So this is who you chose?” he asks. Of course that’s the first thing he wants to know. Not whether I’m alright or what happened or if he can help. Whether I’m dating the Chosen One. The way he says it, it sounds like I already proposed to Matteo and we’re planning on getting married next month. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“Yes,” I tell him, a little firmly, just to make sure he gets it, gets that this is not something to be negotiated.

“Alright then. Make sure to invite him for dinner someday. We don’t want to seem impolite.” That’s my father. Always preoccupied with seeming perfect on the outside. But it still makes me smile a little, the way he’s not turning this into some big thing. My sister is a lesbian and I have a boyfriend who’s the freaking Chosen One and somehow, my father is almost okay with it.

“I will,” I promise. It’s going to be an uncomfortable dinner but if that’s all, I’m not complaining.

Father clears his throat awkwardly when I don’t say anything more and then states: “I need to go look after the … situation now.”

I nod at him and then, when he’s already half turned away, he turns back to me and quickly hugs me. He doesn’t say anything but even that, him trying to show me affection, is a good first step. Then he turns around for good and walks away swiftly, business man that he is.

I’m glad I get to return to Matteo. So much has happened and I know he’s not okay. He couldn’t be. I don’t know what I should do or how to make this better but I know I need to be with him.

As soon as he sees me approaching, he falls against me and I pull him into me with everything I have. It feels like everything has gone up in flames and nothing will ever be the same again but Matteo is in my arms. We’re alright.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Carry On, Matteo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! Can you believe it? (I can’t and honestly, I wasn’t sure we’d get here.) Technically, there’s still the epilogue coming (hopefully soon), but still here, here's the last proper chapter. Chapter Eleven: Sleep, talks, feelings, heroes and mothers (2). 
> 
> This chapter is really focused on Matteo because, well, I really made him suffer in the last chapter. And honestly, this is just Matteo and David having A Talk, so we’re back to no plot. I hope you like it!

**Chapter Eleven: Carry On, Matteo**

**David**

Matteo is sleeping. He’s slept for a while now. After he defeated the Humdrum and confronted the Mage, absolute fucking hero that he is, I had to half drag him back to our room. He fell into his bed (or maybe mine, they were still pushed together) and fell asleep immediately. I watched him for a while before I realised how tired I was myself and fell asleep next to him.

But now I’ve been awake for hours already and he’s still sleeping. I wonder if he’ll ever wake up again. I wonder what will happen once he does. Will he be alright? Because it feels like everything that happened was too much. Like something broke and now it can’t be fixed.

I hope I’m wrong. I hope Matteo will wake up and everything will be alright and I won’t have to worry about him ever again. I hope we get to be teenagers and the only things we’ll be worried about is the awkward dinner with my father and our movie taste not being the same and the fact that our friends get along too damn well.

But Matteo’s mum is still gone and there are going to be investigations about the Humdrum and the Mage that we’ll have to participate in and in the middle of all this, we’re also supposed to graduate from Watford. (If graduation is even still happening, what with the Mage gone and everything erupting in chaos.)

So maybe Matteo deserves as much peace as he can still get before he wakes up. It makes me feel creepy but I can’t help looking at him. He looks so calm when he sleeps. Like yesterday was just a dream and he’ll wake up and look at me and smile and we’ll be fine. When I woke up a few hours ago, he was lying on my left arm and every time I’ve tried to pull it out from under him, he’s started moving like he doesn’t want me to so I’m just lying here, trying not to stare too much and ignoring how much my bladder is urging me to get up and pee. I really hope he wakes up soon, for his sake and for mine.

**Matteo**

There is a short moment between waking up and being fully awake where reality seems far enough away to not matter and somehow, everything is alright. For that one moment, the only thing I worry about is the fact that there is an arm lying under my torso and it’s fucking uncomfortable. Then everything comes back.

The Mage is gone. He’s really gone. He’ll never hurt me or anyone else again. And turns out the Humdrum didn’t exist but then he did and now he’s gone as well. I’m not sure I know who I am without the Mage or the Humdrum.

Too much was happening last night but I know where my mum is now. When I cast the spell, I could see the memories of everyone in the room. I focused only on the Mage’s ones. On his memories of my mum, of me, of all the horrible things he’d done. I was desperately searching for any clue of where my mum was. What had happened to her. And I found all my answers. I was so tired after that. It’s like the truth finally knocked me out.

When I woke up after sleeping for 14 hours, David’s memories slowly came back to me too. An early memory of shadowy figures moving too fast and an excruciating pain in his neck. A later one, “Father, have you ever heard of the word transgender?” Drinking blood for the first time. Moving into Laura’s apartment with her and feeling more at home than ever before. And me, over and over and over again. There’s so many memories of me.

I’ll ask him about it. But not now. Not while I’m still so, so tired.

“Good morning,” a voice says and it takes me a moment to recognise it as David’s because it’s so soft.

He’s lying next to me and the arm poking into my ribs, unsurprisingly, is his.

I don’t trust my voice to come out strong enough so I stay silent but I give him a small smile. He doesn’t quite seem to know how to act either, just keeps staring at me. I stare back. (It feels almost familiar, us looking at each other, neither ready to be the first one to back down.)

Then, David says: “I really need to use the bathroom.”

“Why don’t you?” I ask him. It does come out a little weaker than I intended it to, but not half as bad as I expected.

“You’re kind of …” he nods towards my torso, “lying on my arm.”

“Oh,” I murmur. I turn away from him, so he can free his arm and go to the toilet. He’s gone immediately. It was uncomfortable, lying on his arm, but now I feel so cold. Like something is missing.

I thought I’d feel better now. I thought somehow, magically, all my energy would return to me when the Humdrum was gone. That he was the one that took it. But that’s not what happened. Instead, it feels like even more of my energy is sucked out of me. All I want to do is go back to sleep.

But David doesn’t let me. “I think it’s time to get up,” he says when he comes back from the bathroom. He’s looking at me with his head titled and a smile in the corner of his mouth but there’s something serious about his face as well. He doesn’t say it and I don’t either but I know what it’s about. I need to get up now because otherwise I might never get up.

But not without a fight. “Make me,” I grin at him.

His smile grows wider and before I know what’s happening, I’ve been lifted off the bed. It doesn’t last long because David puts me down with a groan and says: “Fuck, you’re heavy.”

“It’s the muscles,” I tell him with all the conviction I can muster.

It doesn’t convince me. “No, I think it’s because you’re only half human and the other half is butter.”

I can’t argue with that so I just keep grinning at him and don’t say anything. There’s an awkward moment where neither of us quite knows how to proceed from here, from joking around to whatever happens next. What _does_ happen now? The big bad thing I was scared of my entire life is over. Am I even the Chosen One anymore?

I don’t think I’m ready to think about these things. But I don’t think I need to either.

David doesn’t push it. “We could take a walk,” he suggests.

I think my face doesn’t look convinced because he laughs when he looks at me. “That sounds like we’re grandpas,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “Taking walks is really nice! I think we could both use some fresh air. And the Watford grounds are beautiful at this time of year.”

The Watford grounds are beautiful at any time of year but I know David is trying to get me to go outside and maybe he does have a point.

When we got to our room yesterday, we were both so tired that we just fell into bed so I’m still wearing my clothes from then. But David has somehow managed to change already and so I follow his example. (Well, almost. He’s wearing his perfectly ironed Watford uniform and I’m putting on some tracksuit bottoms and the first jumper I find in my closet, one that hasn’t been washed in ages and probably shouldn’t be worn anymore. I hope David doesn’t care.)

I have to admit it’s nice to be outside. It’s the first day of March but it’s still cold so we have the grounds pretty much to ourselves while the rest of the students are inside, huddled into blankets and drinking tea. We just walk next to each other for a while, our arms occasionally bumping into each other but not really touching. I want to take his hand or at least touch his arm or do something. But I don’t know if I’m allowed to anymore. Everything’s weird and fragile right now.

I think he feels the same. But still, after a few minutes, David’s hand grazes mine and before I know it, we’re holding hands. I want to hold onto him forever and I think I’m probably squeezing his hand a little too hard but he’s not complaining and I’m not about to let him go again.

We walk in silence for a bit, enjoying the air and the sun and being here and alive. (It hasn’t hit me until now that we could have easily died yesterday. I didn’t ever expect to come out of facing the Humdrum alive and I don’t know what to make of that but I think it’s a nice feeling.) I could get used to this. Spending time with David just doing nothing. Existing next to each other.

“So, how are you feeling?” David asks after a while. He sounds a little tentative, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to ask. He’s allowed to ask me anything.

I want to brush it off at first, tell him I’m fine and there’s nothing to worry about. But that’s not the truth and we both know it. And that’s not how we work anymore. So instead, I tell him exactly how I feel.

“I don’t know. Everything’s weird,” I begin. “I haven’t fully realised what happened, I think.” He nods. I’m not sure if he just wants me to feel understood or if he does get it but it’s nice, not having to explain myself. Just being able to say whatever I want to say.

When he doesn’t answer anything, I continue trying to put my feelings into words. “It’s like … it feels like the world shouldn’t exist anymore right now. Like everything that was holding it up is gone. But it’s still here and _I’m_ still here and I don’t know what to make of that. I don’t think that makes much sense, sorry.”

“No, I get that,” David says. “I was convinced you were eventually going to end me for years and now you defeated the Humdrum and we won’t have to fight each other and somehow, we’ve both made it out alive. It’s weird.” He gives me a small smile and squeezes my hand.

“But that’s a good thing, right?” I ask him. “That we won’t have to fight?”

His smile grows bigger. “Of course it is.” He raises an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t have stood a chance against me anyway.”

I shove him, a little. It makes me feel almost normal again. “You just said you thought I’d end you!” I remind him.

“Oh, did I? I don’t remember that. You must have imagined.” He pokes his tongue out at me. But then he smiles again and presses a small kiss to my cheek and I know we’re alright. I think he’s happier about not having to fight me than he’d ever admit. (I know I’m happy that I don’t have to fight him and it’s not just because I like him now. I really wouldn’t have stood a chance.)

This is surprisingly easy. Talking to David about what happened, about how I’m feeling. I think he’s the only person in the world who could possibly understand my feelings right now. He’s the only person who was there when it happened. But he still doesn’t feel the same way. He doesn’t know what it felt like, taking the Humdrum’s pain and seeing the Mage’s memories. Setting free all my magic and breaking my wand in the process. I’m still trying not to think about that part.

**David**

It’s going better than expected, talking to Florenzi and trying to figure out where to go from here. He’s not ready to talk about everything but he’s being open and vulnerable and letting me into his thoughts. I missed this. (I can’t believe I was ever trying to run away from him.)

We walked around for at least an hour but at some point, Florenzi just let himself fall into the grass so now we’re sitting in the middle of an empty lawn and I’m really glad it’s not winter anymore. He’s been silent for a while. I want to ask him so many things, about what he saw and what actually happened with the Humdrum. I want to ask about his magic so badly.

Eventually, I do.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Do you think I can be a mage if I don’t have a magickal object anymore?”

“Of course you can. You still have your magic, right?” I’m so scared of his answer. I couldn’t imagine my life without magic in it. I know he can’t either. And I’m scared of what it would mean for us. If he could still like me. If I would still like him. (Of course I would. Whether or not he has magic has nothing to do with my feelings for him.)

“Yeah,” he says. But he doesn’t sound convinced. “But it’s … it feels different. Really different. Like it’s sleeping or something.”

I’m not sure what that means or if it’s a bad sign. “Well, have you tried to cast something?” I ask him instead.

He shakes his head.

“Well, maybe you should.” He shakes his head again, in a weird combination with a shrug. I’m a little worried I’m pushing him too far now.

He stays silent for a bit. Then he shakes his head a third time. “I don’t think I’m ready for that. Besides, I don’t have a magickal object. It’s not going to work.”

“Well, there’s all the time in the world,” I tell him. He doesn’t say anything but his hand touches mine slightly and I know it’s okay.

I think we’re done with this conversation but then he starts again. “I don’t even know who I am now.”

“What do you mean? You’re Florenzi, my nemesis and boyfriend.” I grin at him, in the hopes that it’s going to cheer him up. But I know that’s not what he’s talking about.

“I just don’t know who I am without the Humdrum or the Mage. That’s who I was, you know? The Chosen One or whatever.” There’s a sadness in his voice and I want nothing more than to make sure he’s not sad anymore. (It’s a stupid thought. You can’t stop other people from feeling sad every now and then and he has every right to right now.)

“You know you still are the Chosen One, right?” I remind him. “I mean, you actually did the thing you were supposed to do. You’re a hero.”

“I don’t feel much like a hero,” he says. “Heroes are cool and brave and lots of things I’m not.”

“You are –” I start but he cuts me off.

“You heard him. There’s nothing special about me,” he says and he sounds so sad. I shake my head.

“You know that’s not true. _I_ think you’re special.” It’s true. It’s been true forever.

He smiles at me, very slightly, but I don’t think he believes me. He thinks I’m just being nice. (This is what our life has come down to. Me trying to convince Florenzi he’s important and him thinking I’m just doing it to be _nice_. Doesn’t he know me at all?)

“Matteo,” I say quietly, and it makes him listen, really listen. “You’re extraordinary. You have no idea how much you mean, to me and to the world.”

He blinks at me, not saying anything. And then, out of the blue, he’s kissing me really hard. It’s messy and I’m relieved I’ve already had blood today because I don’t want to think about what would happen if my fangs popped now. But it’s nice too. I’m glad we’re still doing this.

We don’t talk much after that. We don’t even talk about what happens with us now. I don’t think we need to though. Florenzi’s kiss pretty much said it all. He tells me he just wants to feel normal for a while and so that’s what we do. We go back to our room and watch a movie and I let him steal all the crisps even though they’re cheese and onion, which is my favourite. And we pretend the world is normal for a bit.

**Matteo**

The next few days feel like a weird dream. We have to return to school on Monday and so we do. Doing classes without my wand is weird and all the teachers are way too nice, acting like I’m made out of glass and they’ll break me if they even mention what happened. The students are the opposite. So many people I’ve never talked to come up to me and ask me about what went down with the Humdrum and the Mage. Amira and David do their best to keep them away from me.

There’s an official invitation from the Old Families council to come and explain everything in detail once again but it’s not due for another two weeks, so I decide to ignore it for now. I decide to ignore everything right now, only focusing on somehow getting through all the school lessons and spending time with my friends. We told them what happened on the weekend and they’ve been a little reluctant to talk about it ever since unless I’m the one who brings it up. It’s sweet of them and wholly unnecessary.

We still don’t fully know what the Humdrum was. David thinks it was a manifestation of my fears and anxieties. Amira thinks it was probably the moment my mum left, frozen in time and hunting me in the form of an actual monster. Jonas thinks it was all conducted by the Mage, despite what he said. I don’t know what to think.

Sometimes, I think all the pain the Humdrum gave me is gone and I’m alright. But then sometimes it comes back with full force and hits me again and completely overwhelms me. David thinks I should go talk to someone about it. There’s a magickal therapist in London that his father sent him and Laura to after their mother died and he wrote out her number and gave it to me. I haven’t called it yet.

There’s something else I need to do first. I’ve put off thinking about it. But I don’t think I can any longer. I don’t think I want to. So I tell David, one evening.

When I say I need to tell him something, he looks at me with his eyes open and alert. Like whatever I’m going to say matters to him. (It does. I know it does.)

“When I saw his memories …” I don’t say his name but David knows who I mean. There’s only one person I could mean. “… when I saw them, I could also see … my mother …” I can feel my throat closing up, so I take a deep breath and give myself a moment. “When he took her away, he … I know where she is.”

David’s eyes go wide. “Where?” he asks.

I can’t help but laugh when I say it. Not a happy laugh, just a slightly desperate one. “She was there all along. Right there.”

“Where is she?” David asks again. He sounds agitated now. I’m not sure if he really cares about this or if he’s just happy that he won’t have to try and solve this mystery with me anymore.

“She’s with Rentier.” It’s so easy. It was right in front of our eyes the entire time. Of course that’s where he brought her. To her brother.

David doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at me with even wider eyes. Then, “But we were there.”

“I think he used a spell or something. He has … had a way to control Rentier. To stop him from telling us or anyone else.” That part of the memories was fuzzy or maybe I’m just not good enough at understanding magic to know what he did. But I don’t believe that Rentier would have just lied to us like that. He helped us as much as he could.

For a moment, I think David is going to stay silent and not ask the question that I’m dreading, but of course he does. He’s never going to let me off easy.

“Do you want to go there?” he asks.

That’s what I’ve been not thinking about for the past days. I don’t know what I want. But I do. I know exactly what I want to do. I’m just scared.

“Yes,” I say. We’ve been through a lot together, especially in the past few weeks, but I’m still nervous when I ask. “Will you come with me?”

I shouldn’t have been. “Of course I will,” he says and he sounds like he means it. Like there’s no other possible outcome than the two of us traveling to a hut hidden somewhere in a forest to go look for my mother for the second time in three months. Like that’s normal. (I guess it isn’t that abnormal for us. Our lives are pretty crazy.)

We decide to go on the weekend because David is refusing to miss anymore classes and I know I shouldn’t either. We also decide not to tell our friends. I don’t want this to turn into a big thing. I’ll tell them after. Hopefully there will be something to tell them about.

…

Taking the train to York makes me feel like it’s Christmas again. But it’s different now because we immediately start listening to music together and when I start to fall asleep, David lets me lean against his shoulder. We don’t talk much in the first train or in the second one. I’m way too nervous to talk about anything and David seems to get it without me having to say anything.

It’s only when we’re on our way through the forest that the silence suddenly feels like too much and I have the desperate urge to fill it with words.

“When I … cast that spell, you know …” I start. I don’t even know where I’m going with this. I want to tell him about what I saw about my mum and that I’m scared she won’t recognise me or want me anymore. “I could see …” I trail off but David squeezes my hand in encouragement.

So instead, I say the thing that’s less scary. “I could see your memories.”

He turns to me with a surprised look, one of his eyebrows raised.

“What did you …” He sounds a little scared and very curious. “What did you see?”

“You,” I tell him. “Or well, your thoughts, your feelings. Like, I was you. I could see into your brain.” I don’t know how to properly explain this. How it felt to be inside his head. It was kind of overwhelming. Like being inside a room full of objects that all tell a story. I don’t know how to tell him that. But I know something else. “And me. A lot of me.” I laugh a little.

His cheeks turn a tiny bit red. (They’d turn more red if he’d drank any blood today, I think. I’m starting to figure him out.)

“Well, I guess it’s too late to hide that,” he murmurs.

I grin at him. “Yes, it is.” He rolls his eyes at me but he’s still holding my hand and I can tell he’s trying to suppress a smile with all his might.

I’m not sure how we find our way to the hut without magic but somehow, I know it. I just follow my feet and walk and soon, we’re there, so close to where my mum is. I was scared that David would make fun of me, of how nervous I am. But he keeps holding my hand and he doesn’t let go.

“I’m here,” he says quietly, when we reach Rentier’s hut and I slow down. “It’s alright.”

And it really does feel like it’s alright, when he says it.

But it doesn’t make me feel any less scared when we’re standing in front of the door. I almost ask David to knock but I know I need to be the one to do it. I hope he doesn’t see how much my hand is shaking when I do.

There’s a moment where nothing happens and I start to think maybe I was wrong and no one is here and we just came all this way for nothing. But then the door opens and Rentier is standing there, wearing another Christmas jumper. And behind him, a few steps behind the door, my mother.

“I’m sorry, Matteo,” Rentier says. It barely registers with me. My mum is here. Finally, after all these years, my mum is here again. She looks nervous, like she’s not sure how I’ll react. Like she thinks I might be angry at her. (I could never be angry at her.)

I have to keep myself from running towards her. Instead, I try to walk to her at a normal pace. She’s standing there, a little hesitant, like she’s scared I’ll reject her or something.

I hug her tighter than I probably should and I suddenly feel like I’m five years old once more, but I can’t help myself. I’m finally home again.


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look. This epilogue is too cheesy but it's the end, so it's alright. For once I don't have anything else to say so without further ado, enjoy the finale.

**Epilogue**

**Matteo**

If you’d told me when I started at Watford that eight years later, I’d have defeated the Humdrum and managed to graduate with alright grades, I’m not sure I would have believed it. I tried not to think about the future so hard that I kind of forgot that was ever a possibility. But I actually did it. I made it to the end.

David graduated with flying colours, of course. As did Amira and Jonas. To their great despair, they all got the exact same grade so they decided to bury their academic feud. (As if there was any feud left to bury.)

I was most scared of my practical exams because my magic is still a little wonky but it was fine. At least I’m able to properly use magic now. Since I broke my wand, there were lots of discussions about whether I’d get a new magickal object. Eventually, the Old Families council decided to allow me one. As a courtesy for saving the World of Mages. It’s ridiculous.

They told me I could choose, if I wanted to, even though that’s not how magickal objects work at all. But I didn’t. Instead, my mother gave me my grandmother’s old wooden spoon. A heirloom, just like it should be. She said she’d wanted me to have it all along. It felt weird, using it at first. (To be fair, I think anyone would feel weird doing magic with a _spoon_.) But I got used to it eventually. It makes me feel grounded somehow. Like my magic won’t betray me as soon as I try to cast a spell.

It feels different now, my magic. It finally feels controllable. I thought I’d be years behind my classmates because my magic was so weird for so long. But I can actually do most things and if I ever don’t manage something, Amira or David will help me with it. (David doesn’t even make fun of me for it most days).

I did eventually call the therapist he recommended to me. Now I meet up with her once every two weeks and she makes me talk about everything that happened in the past eight years. Some days it’s easier than others but when I get back to Watford, David is always there, waiting with a hug and a packet of crisps and a playlist with new music he wants to show me. That’s decidedly my favourite part of therapy.

David also made me sit through the most awkward dinner of my life, when I met his father. But at least Laura was there too and she brought Linn, so I didn’t feel quite so alone. David says his father liked me but it doesn’t feel much like it. It’s fine though. My mother loves David so much that I think she might decide to adopt him eventually. Or force me to marry him. (Not that anyone would have to force me to do that, probably. But that’s far in the future.)

Life isn’t always easy and my therapist says I’ll have to deal with the aftermath of everything that happened for a long time but most days, I wake up and I look forward to the day. And if some days I don’t, she says that’s alright too. That’s how I’m starting to feel. Alright.

…

It’s a longstanding tradition at Watford that the graduating class plays a prank on the lower classes. It’s supposed to be a lot of fun, coming up with a proper, magickal prank. I wasn’t really into it at first, if I’m being honest. I knew I was bad at magic and wouldn’t be able to contribute anything good anyway. But Hanna convinced Jonas to join and he convinced me so I actually went to one of the stupid prank committee meetings. (Not more than that though because it turned out to be pretty boring and I’d rather spend time with David anyways.) Now I’m weirdly excited for it. Like maybe it’s actually going to be fun.

We’re all meeting in Kiki and Sam’s room, which Kiki had to give in to as the self-appointed supervisor of this whole prank. I’m not sure how we manage to all fit into the room, the entire graduating class of 2019, but somehow, we do. Kiki is making us all wear capes which means we look ridiculous. Like we’re dressed up as the biggest cliché of a mage anyone could come up with. But Kiki magickally stitched all our names on the backs of our capes and it’s kind of nice because it makes it look like we all belong together. (I guess we do, even if there’s people here who I’m pretty sure I haven’t talked to at all in the past eight years.)

We need to wait for a bit, until the sky turns properly dark outside, so we stay crammed in this tiny room. Someone has brought beer and despite some protest from Kiki, most people start drinking already. Someone even tries to light a joint but that’s where Kiki draws the line, starting to shout immediately. (She doesn’t see Sam quickly stubbing out her own joint on the windowsill.) This might turn into a complete mess.

But I’ve decided to just enjoy it. This is our graduating prank. We’re allowed to have fun. And we do, even just on the way to the great lawn where most of the younger students and our teachers are assembled, waiting for what we’re going to do. 

We form a big line and I have to admit it looks impressive with all the capes that are fluttering around us. On Kiki’s command, we all hold our magickal objects to the sky, Kiki’s bracelet and Jonas’ guitar string and David’s wand. And my spoon. And then we start singing.

It was Kiki’s idea, of course. Music makes magic more powerful and she thought if we’d all sing and cast at the same time, we could do anything. (David has kept complaining to me about how we could do so many cool things with this and Kiki is making us sing “Firework” by Katy Perry. I think he just really hates the song. It _is_ really cheesy but Kiki insisted that it needs to be this song because everyone kept singing it in our first year and so it makes the magic more powerful. Besides, what else would you expect Kiki to choose?)

We’ve practiced the song in the past few weeks and now when we sing, it doesn’t even sound that bad. It sounds pretty cool, actually, all of us singing at the same time, even if David is rolling his eyes next to me and Mia hits a maximum of every second note on my other side. We haven’t actually practiced this with magic before and so for a moment, I think nothing is going to happen and we’re just embarrassing ourselves in front of the entire school.

Then the sky explodes in fireworks.

**David**

I’ve rarely seen Matteo so happy. The fireworks light up his face and he’s laughing and smiling and just generally having a good time. I let myself stare at him even though we’re in public and Amira is already raising her eyebrows at me. (I’ve stopped caring about trying to hide my feelings long ago.)

And it’s not just Matteo who’s happy. Everyone’s so happy. I think it’s half relief from having made it through school and half the infectious happiness of everyone else. And I realise that I’m happy as well. Truly happy. (I didn’t think I could feel like this anymore. I didn’t think I was allowed to. But Matteo convinced me otherwise.)

It’s not even a particularly good prank. It’s just fireworks. There’s one that looks like Watford and one for each of our teachers. They stay in the sky much longer than normal fireworks would, moving around and enacting a sort of play, doing weird poses and fighting against each other in make-believe magickal duels. And then there’s moments from the last eight years, preserved in our memories and projected into the sky. The time Abdi threw up in class because he and Carlos had made a bet on who could eat more scones during tea time. The time Sam accidentally set an entire classroom on fire. The time Mia and Hanna tried to sneak out of the window during class all while Mrs Steinberg was standing in the door, just waiting for them to fail. And so much more.

I thought I was above something as silly as the graduating prank but I have to admit, it’s fun. Really, it’s just all of us hanging out one last time, talking and having fun and eating too many snacks. (Carlos, Sam and Amira were in charge of snacks and they came back with more food than I thought we could possibly eat – until we managed to run out of crisps after only an hour and Abdi and Jonas had to magickally get more somehow. I don’t want to know how they did it.)

We’ve grown into a big group over the past few months. At first it felt weird, merging my friendships with Matteo’s, but it’s nice. Maybe Laura was right all along. Maybe I really could have used more people I get along with in my life. People who care about me and who I care about.

I would never admit it but Florenzi really has changed my life. I never for a moment let myself imagine that I might end up here, with Matteo Florenzi in my arms and not because we’re trying to kill each other. But now, sometimes, I think maybe this is the only way this could have ever ended, this thing between him and me that started eight years ago. It used to be him against me for so long but it’s _we_ now, I remember. It makes me smile a little. If there’s one thing I’m ready to get used to, it’s being a team. Working together instead of against each other.

There’s an entire future stretched out in front of us and I’m looking forward to it. A future where we’re both alive and together and we get to just be normal. (Or as normal as it gets when you never know on what days you’ll walk in on your boyfriend eating butter with a spoon.)

Right now, Florenzi is jumping up and down in front of me, exclaiming: “I really need a wee!”

“Yeah, bro, so badly,” Jonas agrees. Then he laughs. “Hey, let’s go pee in the woods. We need to do that one last time!”

He gets up as well and they turn away from us, ready to run to the forest. (I’m not sure they’ll make it without peeing themselves first.)

I can hear Jonas accusingly tell Florenzi: “Why didn’t you stop me from drinking all that beer, mate?” and Florenzi laugh in return. “You wanted to drink all that beer!”

They’re almost gone but then, before they’re that far away, Matteo turns around.

“Don’t run away!” he shouts at me. It makes Abdi burst into giggles next to me until he chokes on his own laughter. Carlos hits him on the back, all the while laughing himself.

I shoot them an annoyed look and then roll my eyes at Florenzi. “I won’t.”

He loves making these jokes and our friends think it’s hilarious. I’m equal parts amused and annoyed by it. But I do really mean it. I won’t run away.

**Matteo**

I could stay like this forever, lying on the lawn and drinking beer with my friends on a warm summer night. Next to David who’s letting me lie half on top of him with only a tiny bit of complaining. His cheeks are flushed from all the alcohol, which means he already drank blood today. That’s one of the many things about David I know now. (I can’t wait to figure out everything. But I know we have more than enough time for that.)

The fireworks are still going strong. None of us are quite sure how they’re lasting this long but Amira is telling everyone who will listen that it’s because we forgot to calculate what our combined magic was going to do and it was stronger than we anticipated. The fireworks of us and the teachers have faded but now the sky is full of different animals, frogs and owls and bees. No one knows where they’re coming from.

I like this, right now. I like how everything is. But I’m also looking forward to the future, more than I ever thought I would. I have no idea where to go from here, really. What to do with the rest of my life. But I have David besides me and, for the first time, I’m excited to figure it out.

There’s a loud crack and another firework explodes above us. This one is in the shape of a dragon and it starts spitting fire in all directions. I think it’s my favourite.

I can feel David’s hand in mine and I can see Amira smile at me out of the corner of my eye. Jonas and Hanna are dancing to a song that Abdi is playing on Jonas’ guitar and Carlos is laughing at something I don’t see. Everyone is so happy. Everyone is alright. And the air is filled with magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! You thought you'd get out this without having to read my emotional thoughts, didn't you? But they're hidden at the end! (Actually, just skip this if you don't want emotions because it's going to be disgusting.)
> 
> We did it!! I was planning on finishing this fic so much earlier but I really forgot how much time writing takes. And also how much I hate having to make the plot make sense. It also turned out so different from how it was originally planned but that's one of my favourite things about fanfic, how you can't keep editing previous chapters so the story develops a bit of a life of its own and you just have to go with it. I haven't fully realised that this is over yet but it's also the beginning of NaNoWriMo tomorrow so there won't be much time to think about it anyway (there's nothing like that to motivate me to finally finish my fic). I will miss this world and these versions of David and Matteo so much but getting to spend so much time with them in the past few months was a lot of fun and I hope you feel the same. (I guess otherwise you probably wouldn't have read until here, so thanks.) 
> 
> First, a very big thank you to my friends for letting me annoy them with this fic for over half a year and listening to me vent about how hard writing is (but everyone can do it!) or share any stupid typos I found funny. You always make me feel like what I write matters. 
> 
> And of course, most importantly: Thank you so much for reading and loving this fic! It really means so much to me that people actually read and liked this and I'm sorry for sometimes taking such long breaks between uploading. Thanks for sticking with this fic for so long and thank you SO MUCH for all the comments and the lovely tags on tumblr, every single one meant a lot. I honestly thought I was done with fanfic for good and then Druck happened and I started reading fanfics again and then somehow I even started writing again. And I really forgot how much I love it (and occasionally hate it) so this was a nice reminder. I have a bit of an ambivalent relationship to writing fanfic because while I love doing it, it's taking away time I could use to write my own stories, but this was such a lovely experience and very much worth it. This is actually the first long fanfic I've ever finished (and the first longer story I finished since I was about 11) and it's all due to your lovely words and encouragement. So, truly, thank you so much. You and this fanfic mean the world to me. <3


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